I slept in until eight this morning. I woke peacefully to what sounded like the wild chatter of little birds in the trees outside, but eventually the chatter gained rhythm and sounded more like a sputtering old tractor. Lying in bed I ran through last night's dreams in my mind. Saying good bye to Gabe. Sitting at the Brickhouse kitchen table saying good bye to Pavit. Saying good bye to Grandma and Grandad. Being stuck in my truck rolling backwards down a mountain. I had just been trying to re-park so someone else could pull in and was still in the middle of my goodbyes. Climbing back up the mountain passing by farms at daybreak when the mist is just rising off the pastures. Alone at first and then with Dooley- passing the time talking about baseball and bluegrass music. Who knows what the mind tries to make sense of when we sleep? Or the heart. This kind of thinking doesn't make for a productive day.
So I get up. It's two hours till class and this is my studying time. I pull on warmups and a Tech sweatshirt and fix a cup of coffee. Outside the noise is back to small-bird chatter and the sound of a train passing by to the north side of the river. A nighttime storm has left West Mountain covered with snow and wearing a crown of fog. I open the window to sniff the delicious smell of spring snow and see where the birds are playing. The neighboring yard is starting to show a little green. Eventually the fog clears off the mountain top, but remains as a low ceiling over the city. It was good to see my family last night- and I'm glad that Grandad was so happy about our news.
