"I bought a toothbrush, some toothpaste,
A flannel for my face,
Pajamas, a hairbrush
New shoes and a case.
I said to my reflection
'Let's get out of this place. . .'" - Squeeze, "Tempted"

Living out of a bag would be easier if I remembered to take the bag with me everywhere I went. I keep showing up in yesterday's clothes - as if anyone cares. It reminds me of my youth. . .

Some things I notice about Houston - there are large neighborhoods filled with ginormous homes everywhere, and more expensive cars than I can count. They all hang the Texas flag out. And have wooden signs in the front yard proclaiming, "Brittany, Cy-Fair Cheerleader" or "Steve, Wildcats Band."

And "running down the street" takes at least an hour in each direction, two different interstates and you'd better know where you're going because no one in the convenience stores speaks English.

I miss my little neighborhood full of small houses and the big-wheel and a boat in my front yard! I drive more in one day here than in a week at home.

Now that the crisis has subsided, the bravado on the homefront is waivering. "When are you coming home?" they keep asking. "The baby is sick, the schoolwork needs to be checked, there's laundry everywhere and we're tired of Pizza. It seems like everything is happening this week while you're gone!"

"No, Dear, it's ALWAYS that way. I'll be there soon." Although there is a part of me that is tempted to stay here - the hospital is probably less crazy!

So I dropped the bomb on my folks, worrying that they'd cry or fall apart at the thought of my departure. My Mom looked a little sad, but she knows I need to go. The "patient" hit it right on the head, though, "I'll bet you're missing them, too!"

Our too-close-for-comfort close-call is fading to memory and we are looking forward to healing and going on to see another day on the outskirts of the big city. I feel like "The Stabilizer." I get one thing fixed and situated and have to move on to another. . .

No, the temptation has passed and I am ready to return and prepare for the next big thing. . .maybe the day after tomorrow. . .

"I'm at the car park, the airport,
The baggage carousel.
The people keep on crowding -
I'm wishing I was well.
I said, 'It's no occasion,
It's no story I could tell. . .'

Tempted by the fruit of another. . . "

No comments: