"Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them."
[Henry David Thoreau]
The drive was fast and easy. A tiny bit of construction, almost no traffic, and no weather to speak of. Dennis Miller, Better Than Ezra, Charles Bukowski, and Semisonic on the CD player. Alternately laughing and singing, which was better than the tears as I left. They weren't heartbroken tears, but...sadness. I won't apologize for being sad to leave, even for 11 days.
It is cold here. The kind of cold that takes your breath and makes your teeth feel separate. I've eaten in restaurants twice in three days (a breakfast buffet and today's lunch--navy bean soup) and otherwise spent the majority of time reading and dozing. I shall certainly catch up on my sleep here, and then some. There has been no snow since I arrived, but I think that it's too cold to snow. Each morning I've watched a pair of blue birds (not bluebirds, but small round birds with blue-gray backs, white chests, long straight tails and yellow bills) eating from the feeder on the deck and playing in the snow. Their footprints look stark in the scattered snow near the door and when I see them I think to get the camera and capture it, but haven't yet.
The plan for tonight is to write cards to those from whom I'd received cards before I left and to finish ripping songs for a holiday mix that I'm making. And to plunk another box of ornaments on the tree. Only 3 to go. Tomorrow I'll write a few more cards and make some jewelry, and probably make a half-hearted stab at shopping. The 'rents and I may to go the Bigger City to the Southwest for lunch (Ciatti's) and shopping at those places that we don't have up here in the small city. Afterward, dessert (Baker's Square) and home.
It is quiet here. Alternately a nice quiet and an oppressive quiet. Mostly just familiar.
It's time now to make tea and get those cards out. So far, Heidi, the indication is that my answer would be in the affirmative, it ever to be asked. And the indication is (according to D.) that it will perhaps arise someday. But I'm not living for it, and what exists in its place right now is unbelievably precious. I'll accept that gift, for now and for good.