Smooth and Quiet

 

 

Too Smooth, Too Quiet

 

I have had to have blood drawn twice this week. They said the first time they didn't get it to the lab in time. I know better. The joke I made to Patty the tech about her being a vampire for sucking my blood out was closer to the mark than I imagined. Problem is, by the time they called me to come back in I had already hit some hooch. Not enough to impair me, but I'm sure it will show up in my vials. IF they make it to the lab.

 

It is very cold tonight, crystal clear and still. I can hear the trucks rolling on the interstate which is a few miles from here. Do the drivers even notice the exit they are roaring past? Do they ever even look and think that there are people, lifes, hopes, dreams, just a few hundred meters away from them? Do they just hammer down and stick with the white line fever? Do you? When you pass a group of houses on the I40, do you wonder about the people inside? Do you think they once rode tricycles and built model airplanes and wanted to be ballerinas?

 

You should.

 

 

It is clear, and for a SoCal boy, late of Arizona, VERY cold. The stars blaze with an intensity born of the far north, and the moon gloats as it casts mystic shadows through the woods. The smallest of animals move and sound like bears smashing through plate glass...It is only the cold that carries the sound. The trees did not have a chance for the leaves to change colors and tonight they say will be the first hard frost. Something about it tugs at a memory that eludes me, trying to either beckon or warn me.

 

 I only want of one thing right now: To cuddle up with my wife and hold her and drift off to sleep with her head on my chest and my arm around her shoulder.

 

But I ask too much.

 

In the meantime, here's a random picture of Winston Churchill: