3a departure
waking in the dark. silence. the clouds dark, sky vacant in the overcast shadows. new moon only days old. new life just a little older. this monthly pilgrimage awakes the beast, tires the weak, strengthens the months past. the past.
winding down the wet roads, dark on 15 then i89 then 7 and 22a. brightness rising over the cast against the mountains — at times they seem purple, today, perhaps lavender mixed with panes grey. awaking the dew, the humidity, the must. awaking the child in us all, “are we there yet?”
the moment the line is crossed, i know i am in new york. it fills me with a sense of security, of being, knowledge of the streets, the air, my people. as i fade back to a sleep-like state i maintain awareness just enough to stay between the lines on i88. the mountains, the valleys, the potholes… am i still in vermont?
time used to play tricks on me. for so long i longed for the future, and recently, for the past. i was finally in a place of the present, that, though learned from, neither the future nor the past would fill my obsession about where i was. all i had to do was look around and i knew i was home.