:: This Morning ::
It kind of looks like someone sprinkled confectioner’s sugar over the world, looking out the back window. Knitting in my lap and a mix on my iPod that breaks my heart over and over, I am aching for home. I keep picturing myself back in college: driving my old silver Jeep, six inches of snow piled on the roof because I am too lazy to brush it off, driving along this road behind Beebe Lake just east of Cornell’s campus. I can’t remember the road’s name but if you follow it down first and then up, around slippery corners, it takes you to the arboretum. There’s a stop sign at the bottom of the first hill before the curvy part starts and if you stop there with six inches of snow on your roof, it slides down onto your windshield and you have to get out of the car to finally brush it off. I know this, as you can guess, from experience.
I miss the hills, the curvy roads. I miss all the trees. I miss snowshoeing through Durand Eastman Park with Brian, the morning quiet as snow and the air sparkling with snowdust so that it looks like honest-to-god magic.
I have to get back to work on the dissertation after the holidays are over. I keep thinking of the routines I need to start, of the ways in which I need to reorganize my thoughts and my workspace. I keep thinking that I need the quiet of all that snow to get me writing and I’m wondering if Ohio can oblige me. I guess she’ll have to. Ohio and I will have to find a way to work together because I have to get this thing done. The money lasts 12 months and so 12 months is the timeline. The goal. The light at the end of the tunnel; the green at the end of winter.
2 comments:
I forget roads' names, too, but could tell you exactly how they look and how I felt driving them, maybe even which song was on the radio.
Good luck with your twelve months. Why, with three less months than that you grew a real person inside you. You can do it.
Julie
Using My Words
I can remember the canopy of the trees and the brick streets of my college town. I remember hiking up the Bluffs to see the gently rolling hills spread out beneath me. It was a lovely town, and oh so quiet.
Good luck with the dissertation. Snow is more likely in January and February in Ohio, so hopefully a few blankets of snow will grant you some quiet beauty.
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