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Purgatory - Sunday, Feb. 10, 2019
Sunday, Oct. 13, 2002 @ 11:26 pm
Thanks for This
So I left off at him leaving for Montreal.
Funny that I should start with him, not funny though, predictable. That's OK, though. I'm OK.
Anyhow, work was slow on Friday - I've mastered the art of stretching 30 minutes of work over the whole 8.5 hour work day. The plan for the night was the Blarney Stone... which happened... but what with bringing a guy friend and an overweight friend... not as much fun as the time it was just me and Miss S.
Saturday was a shopping/errands day. I went home for dinner with my parents and then rented a cheesy 80's movie with my sister.
I'd forgotten how nice days off are.
Mom convinced me to sleep over... the last time I slept there was last Christmas I think. So I curled up in that bed, in that room, where I lived for 17 years. I looked up out that window at the stars, feeling the weight of those same blankets over me. She came in to kiss me goodnight. The clock down the hall tick-tocked me to sleep.
I craved to write how it felt to lie there. White walls protecting me, the blue curtains moving in the draft from the single-pane windows. I daydreamed. The same daydreams came to my mind that I used to create in highschool. There's the one about the boy who throws rocks at my window, and I throw out my fire-escape rope, and clamber down into the driveway and into his arms.
I thought about what it would be like to move home. It would be comforting, yes, I feel so safe there. But again, it dampens my independance, and my daydream revival indicates to me that I would only regress in such an environment.
This morning I woke up to the sound of Dad's spoon in his cereal bowl.
We met Grampa and his ancient hiking buddies to do the Grind. The whole way I was pointing out mushrooms and songbirds. Dad says, "You sure notice more than you used to. Must be all that Biology." You know what Dad? I just never said anything before.
It's neat, hiking with your 88 year old Grampa and your Dad. Three generation hike. The woods smelled alive. It made me feel alive. I could have jumped off and soared over the city, out onto the fog that blanketed the Island.
Grampa is sure to tell the waitresses at the top I'm his granddaughter. The waitresses are generally people I know.
Tonight was the Turkey. I'm getting very sleepy.
I'm getting very spacey.
I want to hear his voice.