Scottish Highlands

Scottish Highlands

Sunday, January 10, 2016

Making It Up As I Go Along #636

Everybody, everywhere, is sick.  A friend in Ottawa, another in Newfoundland, and both my mother and aunt in Florida… All sick.  Seeing I had a cold only shortly before most of these people, I feel like the carrier monkey from Outbreak.  

Today it’s windy and raining and four degrees… In Ottawa.  St. John’s winter has followed me.  It makes me feel like I’m home… Only then I find it strange to think that none of my immediate family is anywhere near Newfoundland Right now.  In fact, I’m the closest.  Sister sits in BC and the parents have begun their Florida winter hibernation.  

I’m booked for Florida.  The tradition is on.  After a March visit to mom and dad last year, I’ve booked to go again this year.  Last year I left the day after  dad’s birthday.  This year I’ll be leaving the day after mine.  I’m looking forward to the warmth, sea, southern wildlife, baseball… And possible Cape Canaveral visit.

Three weeks from a CPSIC return.  Back to the twelve hour shift with four days on and four off.  A temporary fill in but one I’m looking forward to.  It’ll be interesting to see if the rotating shifts are harder to take now, after being off of it for around nine months… Or if it’ll make me wish for a return to the old ways.  

The world of texting can make you all the closer to those you communicate with.  But it can also make you feel all the more separated from them too.  One night this week, I texted four people in fairly short succession.  None replied.  I heard back from two of them the next day… But the other two are likely taken hostage or have taken up residence on the International Space Station.  There can be no other explanation.  

Sunday Bliss
Sitting at the window
Unsure of what to say
Watching the droplets running down
As background trees do sway

Gusts of wind caress the brick
Below Me slushes  a car
I think of springtime visits
With family so very far

And at the tree line they do walk
A dog and his master
With he prancing through the snow
And her trudging through wet disaster

Perhaps I should have a dog
To convince me to be out in this
But dryly I sit behind my window
In cozy Sunday bliss.  


         

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