geese, at dusk, like shadows

Geese gather by the hundreds in the fields across from my office
They gather close together, lowering their heads and preening
Flocks forming a long black mass that is peaceful and still

The sky is deep pink, orange, and cobalt
Headlights cast a long, low beam across the cropped wheat fields
The geese look like an oil slick

A firetruck passes slowly, then a long line of cars with one person inside
Faces thinly illuminated by cell phones and radio displays
Darkness wraps around the fields until they are swallowed whole

I close the front door and rattle the knob to see if the lock will catch
My thumb follows the teeth of the key in my righthand pocket
The headlights from the highway make me squint, so I cast my face up to the dark dome overhead

Across the street, the sound of wings beating frantically against the still air
Feathered bodies launch into the darkeness
Straining to follow the motion, I stand alone and wonder which direction they chose


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Feeling kind of trapped today.

I get up in the morning, shower, get ready, go to work. With the cooler weather, sometimes we don't leave the office at all (unless I duck out to the parking lot for a 1 minute voicemail check) and by the time I get out of work it's completely dark outside-- pitch black if I work late, which is becoming more and more the case. I make dinner and watch some news, or turn on some shitty tv, or read...I look outside at the darkness. I talk to friends who are close by or far away, I make bachelorette pitter-pattering around in my apartment. I send emails. I make plans. I go to bed. the cycle continues.

Such as it is for most people.

I feel stuck. I feel compelled to go to my parents' house all the time because my dad is sick, but sometimes when I get there, it feels like I should leave because he is irritable, or doesn't feel up to chatting. I've been working hard to get somewhere, and now that I've climbed the ladder to see the view, it turns out I don't actually want to pursue that course of action. Where to go now? I've worked very hard to be independent, but currently, the idea of striking out completely alone in a new city with a new dream is looking lonelier than ever. Heart-sickeningly lonely. Priorities scattered to the wind, catching the jet stream, moving in a hundred places at once.

I'm putting energy into things that do not want my energy.
I'm mostly to blame for expending that energy in the first place. Which just makes me feel small and deflated, for the most part.

Tomorrow's graduation for the class of parents I've been volunteering with. Will their kids remember me? Did they get anything out of our time together, or was I just their babysitter / disciplinarian? Did any of them like me? Were they just busy with their own little kid worlds?
What will happen to these families?
How many of these kids will have kids who will live out the same cycle?

I have a new book of cello music that just arrived in the mail. I would like someplace to play these songs, just to have a reason to keep callouses on my fingers and the satisfaction of making nice music in nice company. I don't want to have to start cold playing at places that have no resonance or meaning to me. It's a metaphor for everything else.

Just stuck. Very stuck. Will get unstuck.

I'm ok with making mistakes as long as nobody gets hurt... as long as I learn from them. But I don't want to make a mistake with my life. We just get one, and it goes so fast. I feel jittery about age for the first time in my life. I don't want to be someone who feels jittery about her age... certainly not at this age.

I went to let my dog out this morning-- it was startling. She's been dead for two years. Tonight at Vic's, a golden retriever waggled his white eyebrows at me and my heart melted with how much I loved him. Why can't people love other people the way we love dogs? Why are we so quick to take our affection away from our friends when it takes a dog dumping on our white carpet for us to raise our voices?

People are strange.