Truck 'Em

Just rode away from Truck- Dan's recovered items in the back, mine out and in the house, keys in the ignition, hanging on the "Beach Princess" chain he got me. "What is this? Are you calling me a princess?" (kind of hate self-identifying objects, actually). "Well, I thought it could be for me, but I guess you can be one too, if you want." He did make me laugh. Always sort of saw him as George Clooney in Ocean's 11. Without the longterm follow through.

Glided down that frost covered hill on the way out of my neighborhood, bumped over the curb and in one instant registered three things:

There's a gaggle of school girls on both sides of the street. This song "Wreckroom" is fantastic. And I just left Truck.

It hit me- that ol' unmistakable lightness of being, like someone pulled a chord of white heat up from my naval through my chest, like all those times I flew out of town after a breakup, window unrolled, hand in the wind singing something like "Freefalling," ("Anna Begins" or "Radio Cure" if feeling hard on myself) headed to some random location to start recovery. Z might call every day still, but otherwise, it is finished.

Stand up on the bike and soar high, reach for the leaves on bottom branches. I shouldn't like this feeling this much. Freedom, freedom, the greatest good! Eum... time for good coffee and the start of a beautiful day.