Little did she know...

These days it sneaks up on me, this heart-aching nostalgia for the people and the places that I said goodbye to over three months ago. It's not like I don't have constant reminders of the little people that invaded any sort of privacy I assumed I had. Their pictures are on display all over my house. Their voices and faces are easily summoned from my netbook. And the soundtrack to my every day commute lies ready waiting only for the play button to be pushed.  However, it's the little details like the drive to school, the security guards, the trees, the speed bumps, the super annoying/loud birds that I hated then butI would love to hear again, the voices of the kids and the mammas waking me up before my alarm, the rain on my head in the middle of the night because I forgot to close the window, sirens, people at the robots, my favorite beggar and his hat and sliding down the deserted halls of the shopping center when we're bored on a weekend night that catch me t...

I am sitting on the porch after satisfying my eat-food-now-or-die hunger, basking in the late afternoon sun that is about to sink behind the grain bins. The trees have started to change from their middle of the winter naked into their hint of spring naked, tiny buds silhouetted against blue sky. My thoughts are mulling over the past few weeks and anticipating life back home. I forgot how to be small town...small village. This song of birds and trains and neighborhood kids and dogs and gravel under tires is the sound track to my childhood. And I close my eyes and remember what it was like to be living in the here and now joy of growing up. I am enchanted by the sideways sun of sunset. The sun that makes long shadows and makes everything look a little different, softer. Not like the middle of the day sun that comes boldly glaring and revealing and imposing. This setting sun seems like it creates a haze of magic before the moon takes over and bids me goodnight. It's this s...

it's been over a month since the lovely, memorable, infamous weekend where I busted my leg. (birthday? what birthday? this is not the year I turned 23, it's the year that I broke my leg. when people as me how old I am I have to sit there and think about it, which fact I blame entirely on the drugs I was taking at the time.) since then I have been blessed by a plethora of friends and family and sometimes strangers who have gone out of their way or convenience to help out this poor little cripple. I have also discovered that breaking your leg is like joining a brotherhood of others who have broken their legs and walking with a crutch is an open invitation for total strangers to swap stories and such. amusing, let me tell you. I forgot about the bigness of the sky and ferociousness of the wind out here on the prairie. winter is not giving us much as far as snow goes, but as far as winter skies and naked tree branches -my soul has been satisfied.  and ...