Monday, October 27, 2008

Return to the Wood Hood

I am writing today from my long-time favorite coffee shop, back home in Glenwood Springs. This is the coffee shop where I wrote poetry on paper napkins, laughed over silly things with high school friends, composed my valedictory address, caught up with friends on visits is a restful place for me. Looking forward to afternoons in this quiet place is one of the more exciting parts of this move back to my old stomping grounds. 

The new job has been a joy thus far, even with the usual stresses of starting new things. I spend my days laughing with a hilarious group of eccentric homeless folks. Some are bitter and hard. Some just make me laugh with their resilient humor (and occasional drunkenness). At times, most will give a glimpse into a soul saddened by finding themselves in such a place in life. They are wonderful, teasing me, watching football with me, and teaching me a few tricks on the guitar. Granted, it isn't utopia. A few people creep me out a little, and the drunkenness is as ornery as it is funny. But the life found in those personalities provides something akin to rose colored glasses most days. 

Yes, here I am, back in the kind of small town where the coffee shop is about to 4 pm. But I'll be back, me and this borrowed Mac. Back with stories to tell. 

Friday, October 03, 2008

one thing ends, and another begins

It is night for coffee shops. There is an early fall chill to the air outside my window. For the first time in a long, long time, I have nothing on my schedule and my heart is seeking warmth and solitude. There is no better place for me tonight than this quiet table and my mug of coffee, writing a much needed update by lamplight, enveloped by rich, red walls and classical music.

Blogging, like most things, fell victim these last couple months to the final stretch of my Master's degree, which I officially finished on September 19th. It was a time for pushing much aside so that I could git 'er done. And now she's done, and I am breathing in the sweet relief that comes with time to write. Time to read. Hours for driving into the mountains to soak in the yellows and reds of fall. The latter of these is how Richard and I spent the day yesterday, eyes wide and jaws agape as the road brought us corner by corner to new vistas and blazing groves of Aspens. Incredible, this seaon.

It is a season of change not only for the leaves, of course, and moreso for me than has been the case in the past couple years. Earlier this week, I accepted a job working with the homeless in Glenwood Springs, CO--my hometown. Two weeks from today, I will pull away from this place I have grown to love and drive toward a new stage in my life. I'm full of the usual mix of emotions: a touch of confusion, a dose of sadness, a dash of excitment. The feelings come on at the strangest times. Last night I started bawling while watching Curious George. Seriously.

My thoughts are many these days, and I am excited for the time ahead, a season where I can sit to share them here. A strange new place in life where a night for coffee shops doesn't also have to be a night for homework. I look forward to our conversations there.