We've been here for nine months. If I had been pregnant with this move, this month it would be born. And then I'd have a baby named Madison, and wouldn't that be clever, because I have never heard of a baby named Madison.
Oh, wait. Yes I have.
I have a feeling that this winter killed a lot of people I know, and I hope that everyone's feeling a little bit better about things now that they can drive around with the windows down and sit outside without wearing two or three layers of pants. We were winter zombies, and now we're staggering around smelling daffodils and maybe feeling a little less brain-eat-y. Come to think of it, this is how I feel pretty much every winter, which is why April always comes as such a relief. It's such a friendly time to go out and walk the streets, too--everyone's so relieved to be out of their houses, and the farmers market is back up on the square, and you wake up pissed at the birds outside of your window, then realize you really can't be mad, because they are not a drunken snowplow driver ramming into the trash cans.
Also, the plus side to the windows being open again is that we always get to catch the latest episode of Ghetto TV. Last week a girl accused her fella of cheating on her, and then he threw all her stuff out the window while shouting that this was why she couldn't get a man, because she was jealous as shit. Can't wait to see what's on this week.
I don't know if this spring and summer will bring the change I still would like them to bring. But so far, this month has brought good news, and more good news. It's brought friends and family my way. It brought sun and so much poetry and nights sitting on couches drinking wheat beers and feeling like my old self, only better.
It also reminds me so much of my second semester in Minnesota: juggling full-time work and school and feeling so very engaged by everything. I remember writing then that it felt as if everything was a subject of great debate, but in the most positive way, that nearly everything that happened was something that I chewed on and puzzled over and pondered. I remember wiping down tables and having to stop and scribble a line on a bev nap. That was a time that everything felt right, that it was as it should be, and I feel the twinges of that now. Things still feel overwhelming, but in a good way, like I don't have the time to read and write and do all that I want to, and it's that subtle pressure that propels me through the days, wanting to do more and more with the time I do have. Even without caffeine, there's a faint humming behind my eyes.
There was a point this weekend when "Left and Leaving" came on the iPod while we were talking, and I paused, because for the last twelve months, that song had made me cry almost instantly. Within seconds. But it didn't on Friday night, and it's not now. So instead, I leave you on a fifty-degree Sunday with some Jonathan Coulton (Liz!). I have some editing to do, and a car to wash and bleu cheese burgers and sweet potatoes to prep, and then a date to watch "Wristcutters" with a guy I have a thing for.
Happy week, and happy April.
No comments:
Post a Comment