Two things that have invoked comments or discussions over the weekend.
Reason #1 I no longer live in New England
Okay, you New Englanders are really starting to wear me down. I love weather. I love listening to the rain on the lanai. I love snow storms; the excitement preparing for being stuck in the house for days, and the blanket of quietness that comes after. It is absolutely amazing. I love the lush, lyme green colors of spring or the spectacular colors in fall. I even love a cloudy day because it gives me a good reason to go see a movie.
What I don’t love is weather forcing me to change my plans. I don’t believe in God, but when things are bad, I make pacts with him. One was during a blizzard when I was trying to drive from Boston to CT. It was midnight. An hour out of Boston it had started snowing. By the time I crossed into CT, you couldn’t see ten feet in front of the car, but big trucks were still wizzing by my little honda. I stopped under an over pass for just a minute to catch my breath and make a promise to God that if he helped me get to the rest stop, I’d never drive in bad weather again.
Obviously, I made it to the rest stop. Slept in my car for a while, then sat inside. A bus load of old folks had been run off the road and were now stranded there. A couple trucks had jack-knifed and closed off the road. One truck driver tried to convince me to put my car in the back of his truck because he was carrying catsup packets and they weren’t weighing his truck down enough. Out of all the people there, the manager of the place took pity on me and let me sleep at his desk which had a space heater under it. I think it had to do with me being from Maine and his daughter was at Bowdoin. Whatever the reason, I was grateful.
And if that isn’t enough, I get really depressed in winter. I sleep constantly. I don’t get enough exercise. I try to hibernate. And to top it off, the Raynaud’s disease in my toes flares up. Besides, it is after the storm that I hate. Shovelling. The dirt put on the road when plowing. The constant days of cloud cover like someone trying to smother me with a wool blanket.
I’ll just have to survive with the muted seasons I have here.
Was there any question, part 6
By spark, I’m not talking fireworks. I’m not talking lust. I’m not talking about that primal need to reproduce in the back of a Mercedes (I would have picked something like a Chevy, but lets get real—would I make out with someone who drives a Chevelle?). I am talking about that smile on your face when you hear from them. Or the butterflies in your stomach when you see them again. I’m talking about meeting someone and thinking that your life would be better if they were a part of it, in any capacity. Knowing that you would regret not making an effort to keep in contact with them.
The other side of spark is when it does turn into a relationship. Those are the hardest ones to let go because it is that spark that keeps you together longer than you probably should have been. And it is what keeps you thinking about them past when you should be thinking of them. It is difficult to transition it from love back to friendship. It is possible. It just takes time. Patience is a virtue.