Sunday, May 15, 2005
Back and forth no more
After a half week of back and forth between Colorado Springs and the cabin, I am done -- completely, utterly, irrevocably done. I didn't feel all that sad about leaving. After all the back and forth since Thursday, I'm relieved I don't have to go back there any time soon. I was anxious to get home.
I have been home for nearly an hour now and decided to relax by checking email and reading LJ. Outside my window is a big old tree just beginning to leaf with that soft yellow-green of spring and in the crotch of the tree is a little red squirrel. He and I have been peering at each other, taking each other's measure, and for a little while he was comfortably laid out in the crook of the tree fast asleep. He's awake again, sniffing the air, checking his brushy tail for fleas and staring at me again. I'm not sure he knows what to make of me, but he doesn't look too eager to go away. The tree is less than a yard from the south end of the sun porch where the mountains are purple and deep blue and brown with unleafed bushes. Puffy white clouds lazily drift across my horizon and every where I look are trees rustling and whispering in the wind. There are a couple pine trees, but most of the trees here are oak and maple and others I've yet to identify. The laws here are clumpy and bald in spots, some just dirt with clumps of green and flowers. The sky is impossibly blue around the clouds and over the peaks in front of me there is a soft bluish haze. One of the windows is open and the sounds of children play, cars zipping past every once in a while, and birds twittering and scolding fill the air with music.
A friend came over yesterday to help me network my computers for the new DSL. It took a lot less time than he anticipated and we finished with a gourmet and healthy lunch from Mountain Mama's. There is still a piece of carrot bread in the barren kitchen just waiting for me, but the fruit plate I had on the way home still hasn't settled yet.
For the first time in days I feel full of anticipation and possibility. My friend and I marveled at the way this neighborhood feels so much like where we grew up. The sun porch (now my office and ham shack) is just like the room where he had his work bench and ham shack growing up. We stood at the windows yesterday looking out along the street smiling because it felt so much like home. The apartment is much smaller than what I had, but I don't mind giving up the space. It makes my few pieces of furniture (love seat, desk, and office chair) look less lonely and lost. I unpacked a lot of my things yesterday before I went back to the cabin (books first, of course), and the floor is almost bare now the computers have been set up. There is still a lot of boxes and papers and junk to clear up and throw out, but right now it doesn't matter. I'll get to it in time. I need to get the rest of my things from the car but I feel rather unmotivated right now because I'm enjoying just sitting here and knowing I don't have to go back to Tabernash unless I want to visit friends. I'm here. I'm home.