Freaking holy mother of pearl.
What the heck HAPPENED?
(mops brow, takes deep breath)
I need a nap after the weekend I just had.
A LOOOONG nap.
I ask you, is it foolishness to drive 5 hours on Saturday to the town in which you went to college half a life time ago in order to meet up with some friends of the friend with whom you're travelling and then spend the next 5 hours in a bar and the 5 hours after that around one person's dining room table quaffing beer after beer and talking shit about all and sundry until such time as you realize it's time to hit the couch for a few hours because suddenly you can't see so good and might maybe need to take a little rest before the room starts to wobble precariously? Hmmm?
Is it also foolish to drive BACK the next day, over hills and dales so lushly green and gorgeous that it about tears your heart out with longing to be surrounded by that view, that place, every day for the rest of your life? Why not just stay? Why not just ease back into that life again, into the rhythm of the place, into the comfort of old friends and familiar surroundings, to have the empty place in your heart be filled with what you've been missing?
Would that it were possible.
Would that it were possible to be able to withstand the onslaught of partying well into the night too!
But, regrettably, it's not possible.
(I mean, I'm a reasonably serious acolyte of the Church of Holy Spirits, and thought I could party with the big dawgs, but I realize now I'm a poser in the scheme of things. This troubles me, because if I train with the aim to hit in "the bigs," I'm going to cause myself some serious hepatic damage.)
And again, it was a weekend that was all about the talking. Criminently, the talking. Ten hours in a car with a person leaves a lot of conversational room in which to wander, and I think with every mile traveled we covered a new topic. OK, MAYBE we stayed on conversational track for a few miles, but certainly not more than 20 per topic. Fascinating, really, to have that kind of time with someone, to find out what they're thinking, what their philosophies are, to be able to dig into tough issues, to agree on the beauty of your surroundings or moan about families or dish a secret or two.
Also fascinating to "re-meet" two people who are friends of the travel buddy and who I must have at one point met in my former life but don't remember very well and to realize that I SHOULD have known them better because damn I want to be them when I want to grow up, all three of them, and if a little of their cool could rub off on me I'd be grateful because then there'd be hope for me yet, I swear to God there would.
Coffee on the back porch, listening to the horses sputter and whiffle, letting the sun rise over our conversation and bagels.
The deep green of the fields and sensuous rolling hills.
Many empty bottles of beer.
Bonds made or strengthened.
And hello, "Horseflies"? Please make some more music.
Big shaggy yellow dog, blue glass in the window, Blue Ridge out the window, bees in the liriope, boxwood in the yard, names raining from memories, laughter ringing the table, ashtrays and hummus, the nuclear croissant.
Youngsville house to Danville to Lynchburg to Harrisonburg and back in one weekend.
I still want a nap.
And, because I'm trying to be more Southern, and therefore polite (Subway man at the truck stop in Roanoke? Thanks much for calling me "ma'am" over and over again), I will ask you "how was YOUR weekend"? and pretend to be interested in your answers.
I'm in afterglow, y'all, and maye still a tiny bit hung over. I promise to be more attentive tomorrow.