listen for the thunder, Mrs. Garrett
The sky is just starting to blue as we get into Westport. It's about 6.30. I'm on the 5.46 out of New Haven and trying not to take pictures of a trip I've made over one hundred times.
And as I try to read I remember how She prefers possums to raccoons. How she ran her fingers over the visa stamps on my passport almost reverently. How we rooted for different characters in Luke Cage. How fiercely She held onto me and how it only seemed to get easy to talk to Her at the end.
I've a big decision to make in the next few months and I already know what the choice is, or what it needs to be. But lately it feels like I'm just quitting things before I give myself a chance to get good at them. Still, one of the biggest epiphanies I've stumbled into recently is that sometimes you have to let good things go and settle in the conviction that you made the right decision, despite the terrifying voice deep in your left atrium telling you you might be wrong.
The lamplights are still on. We're in South Norwalk now. At what hour, what minute, does dawn begin?
And as I try to read I remember how She prefers possums to raccoons. How she ran her fingers over the visa stamps on my passport almost reverently. How we rooted for different characters in Luke Cage. How fiercely She held onto me and how it only seemed to get easy to talk to Her at the end.
I've a big decision to make in the next few months and I already know what the choice is, or what it needs to be. But lately it feels like I'm just quitting things before I give myself a chance to get good at them. Still, one of the biggest epiphanies I've stumbled into recently is that sometimes you have to let good things go and settle in the conviction that you made the right decision, despite the terrifying voice deep in your left atrium telling you you might be wrong.
The lamplights are still on. We're in South Norwalk now. At what hour, what minute, does dawn begin?