Cloud-Vaporizing

There was a voicemail on my phone yesterday that my computer is fixed, that I can pick it up anytime. I might leave it there a few more days. It has been so refreshing to be in my apartment in silence at night, without background music or the ability to distract myself. I should try and hold on to this obvious revelation once I do bring it back home, but I probably won't.

I went up the EMU hill late last night. I can tell my legs are getting stronger; this incline which had given me such excruciating pain the first time now only left me breathing slightly heavier. At the top, somewhat liberated from the light pollution of Harrisonburg, the stars were bright. Further down the hill, some teenagers crowded on a blanket, laughing nervously while sipping on illicit beers. I lay on the grass and felt my body soak into the Earth, felt it turning slowly (quickly) beneath me. One star stood out, and I focused on it until I could no longer see the others, until I could almost feel its warmth from billions of light years away.

I thought of a really clever poem at the bar the other night, something involving Summer dresses and Summer ale with a sort of play on words, while I watched the awkward conversational dancing that floated around me and of which I inevitably became a part of by my very presence. It really wasn't that clever of a poem.

The river delights to lift us free...

Hiding

Working 8 hour days in the library is becoming really disorienting. The fluorescent lighting and sub-freezing A/C make going outside a real shock, and I feel my appendages thawing for at least a half hour after stepping into the warm evenings. Not that I'm complaining; I don't necessarily envy the guys working grounds crew outside in the 105º heat. Actually, I think the hardest part of working here is how much it forces me inside my own head. It has also made me realize how uncomfortable I am with being in there. I find myself blaring music or NPR just to fill the silence, laughing abnormally loud at funny quips on Fresh Air, or voicing existential questions to the cold air during All Things Considered.

I haven't felt like taking the bike ride to the grocery store lately, so I made a batch of muffins last night to have for breakfast for the next few days. It's amazing how strongly smells attach to our memories. The smell of the muffins baking brought back sitting in the cold living room of 449 West Walnut in Kutztown on a snow day, huddled under a blanket with friends, eating breakfast and watching Gone With The Wind. I realized this was the first time I've made these muffins for just myself. I felt suddenly very lonely, until the smoke alarm broke my thoughts and told me they were done.

On a side note, the attack kitten that is sharing my apartment has never been so affectionate as when that alarm went off. I think I have discovered the one thing he fears...

Less than a year...

It occurred to me last Saturday, after Caleb and I finished our epic 40-mile ride around the Shenandoah Valley.

He showed me some of the landmarks from his years living in the area; a Mennonite church on a hill with rows upon rows of horse-and-buggy tie posts; a gravel road that leads to a "bridge," which is nothing more than a concrete slab resting on the creek bed that is completely submerged by heavy rains (fittingly, it is named Concrete Slab Road); his old friend's house which was "just over the next hill" (I counted four next hills in all) where we replenished our rapidly depleting water supply.

There were also some surprises, even for Caleb -- namely, the mile-long row of raspberry bushes along the road, all brimming with ripe fruit, so much so that they seemed to glow red in the diminishing sunlight. We dumped the water from all but the largest water bottle, and began filling them with the bright red berries. Caleb's will was much stronger than mine; after a short time he had filled two bottles, while mind was hardly even a quarter full. The instant gratification was too tempting...

Later, after an amazing dinner of curried eggplant, lentils and rice, a dessert of our hand-picked raspberries (I wish I had picked more for later), and a few Pabsts on Caleb's porch, the reality finally settled in: less than a year from now, another chapter of my life will come to a close, and I will be pedaling across the country in hopes of seeing the Pacific before August.

I have a lot of physical/mental/emotional preparation to take care of...