...and though it's sunny outside and though a weekend full of social plans looms ahead, I'm lost, for the moment, in my underground world. The quiet (empty) Journal office accommodates the steady click of my keyboard, while soft strains of piano music filter in from the outside lobby. For now, it's enough.
Soon, I'll lose myself in library journal stacks, steady preparation for upcoming presentations and papers a must. Today, I can linger just a bit longer, tipping the last drops of Diet Pepsi from my can, letting Nutella and yogurt-raisins flavor my tongue.
Sometimes I get stuck here: the hours roll by, each minute slipping, unnoticed, into the past. But in a few weeks, after I'm gone, I want to remember this light, this feeling, this smell.
Normally I bask in the busyness of the everyday, but let's not forget the pauses...after all, it's Friday.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Change of Plans
Getting to Germany has proved a little bit more complicated than originally anticipated--what with half a dozen doctor's appointments in the last week and at least that number of tiny vials of blood drawn from my arms.
A case of mild anemia earned me a repeat lab test this morning..."To make sure it's nothing serious." Fingers crossed that it's not.
However, more significant that my multiple medical appointments is the change of traveling plans, or more specifically, the lack of a particular traveling companion. Most of the time, you'd have to be crazy to give up a Fulbright--or you have to receive a better offer.
On Friday, while I was at work at the bakery, my friend received a phone call from Toronto. She'd been accepted to graduate school. The university's paying her to attend. Driving home that night, I called to congratulate her. Then I cried.
Only because I was excited for shared adventures. And only because our friendship is a study on grace and forgiveness.
True love is selfless, though. When September dawns with its seasons of goodbyes, I don't have to question whether or not I'll miss her smile. That much is a given.
But her dreams lead to Canada for now. Mine will still send me across the Atlantic.
Even though I know I'm leaving, too, and even though I'm already exited for reunions and the opportunities to make new friends, this season of dissemination still contains its share of sorrow.
Letting friends go has been a part of life since I graduated from high school. In the last four years, I've said goodbye and hello more often than I would have liked. Each friendship, like an annual flower, blooming vibrantly for a time and then lying dormant under the soil--not dead, but out of sight for awhile.
On a positive note, there's still the spring's season of blooms. This now is not over, and I'll take today, tomorrow, and this term--perhaps cherishing each moment that much more to redeem the time together.
I'm thrilled that the winter of waiting has burst into a more glorious future than she imagined. And though it's shorter than anticipated, I'm glad I get to bask in its brilliance for just a bit longer.
A case of mild anemia earned me a repeat lab test this morning..."To make sure it's nothing serious." Fingers crossed that it's not.
However, more significant that my multiple medical appointments is the change of traveling plans, or more specifically, the lack of a particular traveling companion. Most of the time, you'd have to be crazy to give up a Fulbright--or you have to receive a better offer.
On Friday, while I was at work at the bakery, my friend received a phone call from Toronto. She'd been accepted to graduate school. The university's paying her to attend. Driving home that night, I called to congratulate her. Then I cried.
Only because I was excited for shared adventures. And only because our friendship is a study on grace and forgiveness.
True love is selfless, though. When September dawns with its seasons of goodbyes, I don't have to question whether or not I'll miss her smile. That much is a given.
But her dreams lead to Canada for now. Mine will still send me across the Atlantic.
Even though I know I'm leaving, too, and even though I'm already exited for reunions and the opportunities to make new friends, this season of dissemination still contains its share of sorrow.
Letting friends go has been a part of life since I graduated from high school. In the last four years, I've said goodbye and hello more often than I would have liked. Each friendship, like an annual flower, blooming vibrantly for a time and then lying dormant under the soil--not dead, but out of sight for awhile.
On a positive note, there's still the spring's season of blooms. This now is not over, and I'll take today, tomorrow, and this term--perhaps cherishing each moment that much more to redeem the time together.
I'm thrilled that the winter of waiting has burst into a more glorious future than she imagined. And though it's shorter than anticipated, I'm glad I get to bask in its brilliance for just a bit longer.
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