A Friday at Home
It's a quiet Friday for me. It snowed a bit here this afternoon and evening and I was seized with my usual Friday snow-weather impulse: drive out to get pizza. I love being out in the snow.
It reminded me a little bit of this past Christmas Eve. The snow was much worse then, of course -- I was in the grip of a blizzard. Tonight's snow was positively dainty by comparison. Still, the roads and grass are covered, which is certainly the bare minimum of what something that calls itself a snowstorm should achieve.
But what most resembles Christmas Eve is that it's me, alone, looking out of the windows into the snowy night, feeling very much alone.
Last night, I was returning from Blue Springs after teaching lessons. It's not my ordinary beat, but my friend had gone off to the lake resort and the conference of music educators. Not being "that kind" of educator and residing (as I do) in Kansas, I stayed behind. I got into the conference for $5 a few years ago (instead of $130) and I'm not in the mood to press my luck again.
On my way back, I stopped in to visit my friend's wife to rid myself of the books he had lent me for the lessons. She was working at home on papers related to her nursing studies. She lives in the neighborhood called Waldo in southern Kansas City, a village where there has been concern over a serial rapist. She had the doors locked and I'm glad I didn't just surprise her by knocking on the door.
While I was there, the two of us chatted for about thirty minutes before she let me know that she really had to work on her papers. I was really disappointed that I couldn't just stay there and chat for a few more hours, but I wouldn't want to knowingly put her off her schedule. Perhaps that has something to do with why I'm so testy lately with my more .... taciturn friends. That somehow I feel like I should be rattling away nonstop because I don't get a chance to do it often enough. They still need to communicate more, but perhaps there's some slight room for the blame to fall on me. Heh.
*** *** ***
Recently, I crossed paths with a woman I dated. It was long enough since I'd thought about her that I had to feign surprise (even though I'd already seen her coming) just long enough to bring her name to my lips. She was out with a boyfriend and the whole thing turned into the funny dance people do when they meet exes. She and I made small talk while her boyfriend put his arm around her and emphasized connection and affection. Knowing that she hates such displays, it made me smile. Just a bit.
She was never that interested in conversation. Our brief period of dating was unsatisfactory all around because we were both looking for someone else. In my case, I grew frustrated with her un-inquisitive and absolutist mind. She grew frustrated with my inclination towards introspective pursuits. And so we parted ways: no harm, no foul.
By some standards, the relationship had a successful end: we realized our problems and came to a mutual decision with little fuss. A successful dismount, if you will.
It reminded me a little bit of this past Christmas Eve. The snow was much worse then, of course -- I was in the grip of a blizzard. Tonight's snow was positively dainty by comparison. Still, the roads and grass are covered, which is certainly the bare minimum of what something that calls itself a snowstorm should achieve.
But what most resembles Christmas Eve is that it's me, alone, looking out of the windows into the snowy night, feeling very much alone.
Last night, I was returning from Blue Springs after teaching lessons. It's not my ordinary beat, but my friend had gone off to the lake resort and the conference of music educators. Not being "that kind" of educator and residing (as I do) in Kansas, I stayed behind. I got into the conference for $5 a few years ago (instead of $130) and I'm not in the mood to press my luck again.
On my way back, I stopped in to visit my friend's wife to rid myself of the books he had lent me for the lessons. She was working at home on papers related to her nursing studies. She lives in the neighborhood called Waldo in southern Kansas City, a village where there has been concern over a serial rapist. She had the doors locked and I'm glad I didn't just surprise her by knocking on the door.
While I was there, the two of us chatted for about thirty minutes before she let me know that she really had to work on her papers. I was really disappointed that I couldn't just stay there and chat for a few more hours, but I wouldn't want to knowingly put her off her schedule. Perhaps that has something to do with why I'm so testy lately with my more .... taciturn friends. That somehow I feel like I should be rattling away nonstop because I don't get a chance to do it often enough. They still need to communicate more, but perhaps there's some slight room for the blame to fall on me. Heh.
*** *** ***
Recently, I crossed paths with a woman I dated. It was long enough since I'd thought about her that I had to feign surprise (even though I'd already seen her coming) just long enough to bring her name to my lips. She was out with a boyfriend and the whole thing turned into the funny dance people do when they meet exes. She and I made small talk while her boyfriend put his arm around her and emphasized connection and affection. Knowing that she hates such displays, it made me smile. Just a bit.
She was never that interested in conversation. Our brief period of dating was unsatisfactory all around because we were both looking for someone else. In my case, I grew frustrated with her un-inquisitive and absolutist mind. She grew frustrated with my inclination towards introspective pursuits. And so we parted ways: no harm, no foul.
By some standards, the relationship had a successful end: we realized our problems and came to a mutual decision with little fuss. A successful dismount, if you will.
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