Wednesday, March 07, 2007

I Remember...

And so there are these times. These times when I get home from work and realize there is this dependency between us. I know it. You know it. That’s why we’re here. And so it goes.

So I remember. Things. Lots of things. And it goes like this:

I remember the nurse telling me today that the worst part of her job was all the phlegm.

I remember thinking that there must be worst things than phlegm.

I remember my alarm clock going off and waking up alone (again).

I remember stopping to get my coffee and seeing people who were far more awake than I was.

I remember sitting in my car at State & Main and thinking about David Mamet’s movie with the same name.

I remember how small Vermont feels.

I remember the warm blue days of last week.

I remember being snarky (yesterday).

I remember wondering how in the hell I was going to make a living in my own home state.

I remember the feeling of not wanting to drive away from Montpelier’s round-about, instead just going around and around all day long until someone forced me to stop.

I remember the smell of spring.

I remember the smell of sweat.

I remember reading C. Wright Mills’ “Power Elite” and realizing he could be writing about Montpelier.

I remember Lou Reed’s “Street Hassle” in the “Squid & The Whale.”

I remember the old woman who approached me today with her lipstick on sideways and the biggest smile I’d seen all day.

I remember when she said “thank you for freshening our home.”

I remember when they asked me to sit with them at lunch.

I remember how they talked about their children and grandchildren and how it made me want to go home and call my mother and father.

I remember the smell of cleaning products.

I remember the feeling when it was time to quit working today and I didn’t want to leave.

I remember getting into my car, looking up, and seeing eyes from the window looking at me.

I remember my frustration on the way home at not being able to find a copy of the New York Times.

I remember hearing Sean Hannity on the radio saying that Scooter Libby didn’t do anything wrong until the prosecutor accused him of doing something he didn’t do wrong (or something like that).

I remember seeing the sandbags at the Montpelier Post Office and talking to the guard about the preparations for the coming flood.

I remember thinking about the Bible.

I remember thinking about the dog who sat in the passenger’s seat in the car next to me, and who gave me a look that clearly said: Deal with it.

And I remember staring at a blank page, wondering how we’d communicate tonight. And now I remember that everything’s going to be all right.

We made it. Now we can rest.

Thanks for playing.