First the Glass, Then the Leaves That Pass, Then Comes the Snow

[snurri]

Walking out of the building at 6:30 in the morning the world is gorgeous. Cold, but not harsh, and the snow and the quiet and the Christmas lights and the hundred-year-old mansions . . . a rabbit hopped down a shoveled walk, up the sidewalk and around the corner. When I got to the intersection it was maybe twenty feet away, up on its hind legs, peering over the snowdrifts.

The girl who works the mornings at the coffee shop is always cheerful. I suppose I usually am, too, once I wake up--it's the afternoons and evenings when I get cranky. Tea helps.

I like the bus. St. Paul is a pretty city any time of year, but especially in the snow. Rice Park, especially, with the Landmark Center, the library, the Ordway and the St. Paul Hotel surrounding it. It's like a postcard.

At my transfer point there were two guys discussing the legal details concerning physical evidence of assault. The one was assuring the other that he was all good because "she" didn't get medical treatment within 24 hours. They got off the bus separately; the one who was all good told the bus driver to drive safe.

There's a stop sign on the bus route that has several memorial bouquets tied to it. One of them says "Dad." It breaks my heart every time I see it.

I don't really understand how I can be lonely and simultaneously want nothing to do with anybody.

Comments

[blueeverglades.livejournal.com]

I couldn't help but read this entry a few times.

[blueeverglades.livejournal.com]

I don't really understand how I can be lonely and simultaneously want nothing to do with anybody.

And again, right there with you.

[snurri.livejournal.com]

Confusing, ain't it? :-) Not that I wish confusing feelings upon you, but that's sort of nice to hear.