knot-tying

Despite the clouds and humidity, the wind that knocked over my houseplants in the living room and had me waking up to the ominous creaking of the sycamore tree in the front yard that sounded like it'd crash through the front window, it's been a long time since the insomnia hit this hard and the lack of rain bothered me when I woke up more tired than I've ever been this morning.

It was the first of what will be three friends of mine getting married this summer, and of course she was beautiful, they were both radiant and I'm extremely happy for them both, and it was nice not to have to worry about dancing at the reception, just a picnic in a park, paper plates and unstructured, and so I mingled among people that I know and like, hold crying babies and manage not to fall in wedged heels.

And while I know my way in and out of every hood in Clevelandia with no problem, I get completely disoriented on often-unmarked country roads and intimidated by horse and buggies because I have a hard enough time figuring out how to share the road with bicyclists, especially when I've got her two Ethiopian roommates behind me depending on my errant sense of direction in rural parts, who thankfully had a GPS for such things that spared me from going down roads turning from pavement into dust. Everything is so green underneath the sky, and I see signs tempting me towards homegrown tomatoes and hometapped maple syrup and I understand why people live out here even as I'm ready to come home.