Bloom

You're killing me.

I just thought you should know.

Once upon a time there was a bud:

tightly closed against the world,

afraid to open, to smile, to radiate.

But it felt a ray of warmth,

a single golden beam that felt like love.

In the moment of decision, it chose,

and chose wrongly.

To open and be known,

to shed the mystery and allure,

was the beginning of the end.

I learned as I gazed outward and upward

that the sun's warmth was impersonal:

it did not love me anymore than poison ivy,

treated us alike,

and in its heat I withered away.

You're killing me.

And it wasn't even worth it.

________________________________

Occasionally I wonder if those crackpot theories about positive and negative vibes are true. Only occasionally, and usually I come to the conclusion that "crackpot" is still an appropriate designation. But these past few days have made me wonder more than is my wont.

Having already been home for Thanksgiving break, I was not and am not keen to be home for Christmas. I should be, I know, and it's not that I don't love my family, friends, or job, but I would rather be depressed at IMPACT than depressed at home. Nonetheless, I went to the necessary lengths to ensure that I would not be trapped in the south by an ice storm in North Carolina, leaving at 8:30 on Friday morning. I thought that was sufficient, but was I ever wrong...

The day is going fairly well. Despite the fact that we were the last of the three vehicles composing the northern contingent, Randy and I managed to pass Grace and Jackson along the way and we were making excellent time heading into Virginia. I expected to be home no later than 12, and that as the traffic and Acts of God estimate. Then things just went funny. First, Randy realized that our directions were taking us in a really roundabout, extra long loop up into Richmond and then down south to Norfolk. But we figured we might as well just keep following them until we couldn't find our next step, so I turned around and went back down I-95 south until we reached a route that Randy said would get us to Norfolk.

Finally in Norfolk, I discovered that Randy lived there much of his life, but has not been there in a long enough while to get lost while searching for Five Points. Getting there involved an illegal u-turn at a busy intersection, wrong turns because I am directionally challenged at the best of times, and wrong turns because Randy didn't know where he was going. At long last, tired and frustrated, I dropped off Randy and turned my car north on I-64. Surely it would be a straight shot from there, and I could hold off on stopping for gas and food until I was out of the VA Beach/Norfolk/Hampton/Newport News area.

Bad idea. In the space of five minutes, pouring rain became freezing rain became heavy snow that was thick on the roadway. Traffic came close enough to a standstill as we crept along at an adrenaline-inducing 20 to 30 miles per hour. Three hours later and I finally reached I-295, but it was pretty clear that I would not be driving home that night. Thankfully, Katrina had a clearer head than I and booked a room at a hotel. After stopping at long last for gas and getting some food, I drove to the hotel and crashed with no clear idea of what tomorrow would bring.

The next day, I peered out the window to see a cessation of snowfall. Hoping for the best, I turned on the weather channel, only to find my hopes dashed as commentator after commentator went on about the storm that was stopping everything in D.C. and Philly. There would be no drive north that day. But I recalled an offer the night before from an IMPACT alumni who contacted me on Facebook. Corinne lives in Williamsburg and when she saw from my status that I was stuck in Richmond, she offered to help however she could. I took her up on that and drove on the mostly clear roads 40 miles back down I-64 to Williamsburg. The day was spent largely talking with Corinne and Cameron, another IMPACT alum staying with her for a few days. At last I slept and the next morning set out, determined to reach home but still feeling less than happy about the next two weeks. About twenty miles north of Richmond, traffic slowed to a grinding 5 miles per hour. Great. This again. Twelve miles in two hours, and I was ready to kill something, afraid that heavy volume would make this jam the par all the way through to D.C.

This was not the case, as I found out eventually, and most of the way was fairly clear and fast travel, although the McDonald's I stopped at for a late lunch proved to be quite a long stop with all of the drive thru traffic and a badly plowed parking lot. Everything was going well and I seemed to have a straight shot north, especially as the day wore on, but at long last I had to stop for gas just four miles inside the PA line at Shrewsbury. Having refueled, I went to turn my car on again, but it refused. Great.

An hour and a half later, parents and tow dolly arrived to carry dear overworked Izzy and myself home and not quite in the fashion I had envisioned. But we're home now and safe, although it'll probably be at least a week before Izzy is fixed and driveable.

Back to the negative emanations though: I don't understand how so many awful things could happen on one trip. The only thing that could've gone wrong and didn't was that I was able to get out of the unplowed hotel parking lot, but Izzy is one tough girl and thanks to her front wheel drive and grit we got out just fine. The weird part of the whole mess is that I kind of wanted it to continue, to delay the inevitable. But now I'm home. 13 more days. One day for every hour that my 60 hour trip ought to have taken. 13 days and I'll be in North Carolina. 14 days and I'll be back at IMPACT. Somehow I don't even want to go back to IMPACT, but I don't want to be here. I don't really want to be anywhere at all. Is that a bad thing?