Moments in April

I've missed writing these past few months. I've put both creative writing and blogging on hold as I finished my thesis (I successfully defended it last night :) ) and traveled for job interviews. What lies below might resemble stream-of-consciousness writing along with thoughts I'm still working to gather.

Yesterday morning I watched the sunrise for the third morning in a row. Salmon clouds collided with golden horizon below a city encased in haze. Three dozen floors above lower Manhattan, the world looked different.

I was awake early again today, watching the sun rise over the distant pine tree line of northern Vermont. The snow has melted. I haven't slept well in several days but continue to feel rested. Energy and adrenaline has arrived from somewhere. After yesterday's sunrise, I couldn't fall back to sleep but I remember entering a dream-like-thought process. Remembering suddenly of the rose bushes on the west side of the home I grew up in near the tall evergreen tree in the center, illuminated by Christmas lights in December and the rose bushes, illuminated in pink blossoms in the summer. I thought of the wild raspberry bushes bordering the rose bushes. It was a moment of peace that reminded me of moments in life and place that arrive when we need them most. I didn't eat much yesterday and wasn't hungry throughout the day.

Early in the morning, I declined a job offer I had wanted for a long time but had slowly begun to realize it wasn't for me. I gathered my belongings and headed for the subway, walking past Wall Street on a  Monday morning. I interviewed again two hours later and headed for the airport.

I remember studying my thesis presentation and notecards as the plane taxied. I remember talking to the older man sitting next to me; we spoke about Vermont, about my thesis presentation, about how with the 2 hour flight delay, I might make it just in time. Once we took off and New Jersey became distant, the exhaustion set in. I vaguely remember flying through the clouds, white light streaming in through every window and the sun's heat growing stronger. I remember fighting to keep my eyes open as I saw the flight attendant approaching with the drink cart. I ordered a ginger ale and my seat mate ordered an apple juice. I remember being handed the wrong drinks and seeing him lift my ginger ale before I said in a quiet and slow voice still filled with sleep, "I think that's mine and this is yours." We laughed. I drank quickly, hoping to wake up. I remember Lake Champlain coming into focus along with Vermont farmland I had once walked though. I remember flying over the college I'll soon graduate from and recognizing landmarks across the tiny city that have defined my experience in the state. Once on the ground, I headed for the presentation. I was right on time.

When I arrived back to my room at 9 p.m. last night, my bags still packed, I went to my bookshelf and began reading a novel before taking out a notebook and writing everything I could. I wanted to remember and process and understand everything that I had experienced in these past few months. I wanted to write poetry and fiction too, craving the creativity I had missed. The exhaustion succeeded though, and the writing couldn't stretch. When I woke up this morning, before my eyes opened, I couldn't remember where I was.