SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Giving Notice - Friday, Sept. 29, 2017
Accepting Offers - Tuesday, Sept. 26, 2017
Indian/Polish Wedding - Thursday, Sept. 21, 2017
The Builder - Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2017
Rupert Part II - Sunday, Sept. 10, 2017


Saturday, Feb. 20, 2016 @ 8:11 pm
Chris/120.2



I love you more than anything in the world.

He says this to me so quietly that it's barely a breath. It's totally dark, wherever we are, and his lips find mine in the dark, and it's totally perfect.

And I wake up.

I spend a night at the local technical college talking to students as part of an industry night. I go alone, and at first it's horrible but eventually I find my stride. Standing amongst a group of 8 first year students, me talking about my job and career and company, and all of them totally silent and wide eyed. I have their complete attention. I seek out the older students and the women. I find a woman about my age, and we discover people in common and make plans to reconnect at a networking event next month.

After three hours, I am exhausted and starting to lose my voice. I walk back to the company car in the vast expanse of parking lots. I used to live two blocks from here. I can't imagine it now, my life then, living in that house.

The next day I have a project startup meeting with a large municipality. Creek restoration. We start at City Hall and then meet up on site, everyone wearing gore-tex and gumboots, light rain falling and the ferns bright green amongst the glossy brown fallen leaves.

Standing on the creek bank, I strike up conversation with the Urban Forester. Turns out we grew up a few block from each other and know people in common. For a city so large, it oftentimes surprises me with it's smallness.

This morning, the scale read 120.2. Which means that I'm 100 grams away from the teens. I will stop there. At least that's what I'm telling myself.


Roots | Shoots