Riding my bike, licking my wounds, learning the intricacies of the Labor Department and its unemployment benefits.
Mostly I want to have more spring days when I speed over a rise and around the corner to emerge along side a field of Lupins scenting the air the most tantalizing way. I wanted to stop and pick flowers, revel in aromatic intoxication. But instead on I went, fearing the cloying feeling of too much bouquet; savoring it until my nose was searching for something besides the freeway exhaust and rotting plant matter.
It was raining by then, not that I mind if I am moving fast, faster.
Twenty miles under clouds, a fording the path under river water, wet feet and smile - having no job isn't so bad. No, actually, I love my time. It is only the temporary lack of capital that I abhor. And that too shall pass.
Until then, I pray for pithy lines, for the rain to pass and for inspiration to make itself known.
In the meantime, thank you Captain Crank for the innovative use of a back pack. A friend in need... indeed:
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