Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The weather these days has been vaguely reminiscent of life in the Bay Area at its worst, fugly and cold. Its been a totally depressing two days and the burning desire to head out of the fog became the voice of reason and motivated a picturesque drive to the Illinois valley. I could have skipped the insanely narrow road that zigzags down the side of the mountain to the river, with a suicide drop off the side that takes your breath away, were you not holding it in, praying another vehicle is not coming around the curve in the other direction. Each time we head down that road I swear its my last... and fear its my last.
No matter how you turn this kaleidoscope it can take your breath away.
At the top of the mountain, in the midst of some solid sunshine, we discussed the fact that this weather picture plays out every year around this time, and then, in no time at all its 110 in the shade and we're floating down the river.
Time flys wheter your having fun or not, and its all relative to something I just can't get a handle on. Like, fourteen years since I moved here, a year since I started at the hospital ( I got my one year certificate this past Monday), I still struggle to remember how old I am, and still wonder what I will be, if and when I grow up. And the seasons turn turn turn around it all.
There is a distinctly serene advantage to the change of seasons, but as I get older, the reason I appreciate that fact becomes dimmer and is eventually off the radar entirely. I find myself longing for the kind of blissful warmth that makes me turn my face to the sun and melt, ahhh....year round. Each winter more than the last, I long to head somewhere, anywhere south, kind of like some of my body parts these days...
I tell myself, THIS is my last winter here, and then, here I am again, a year later, wondering where the past twelve months have gone. Its like one of my very favorite movies, Groundhog Day, except its not hysterically funny. There is snow, I have one of those generic clock radios, I am from Pennsylvania, but can we cut to the Hollywood ending complete with romantic music? And can I rewrite the ending to be on a beach with a Margarita in hand?
Reality check. Maybe its time for a new life plan complete with a geographic, a creatively and financially rewarding job, or maybe just a few days escaping cabin fever here in paradise.