A Broken Yo-Yo

As I look out the window to the night, newly fallen on campus, I remember. The trees flatten to fields and the dorms fall back and grow to mountains. A train, somewhere far off, whistles its evening serenade. I feel alone yet comforted by a presence beyond flesh. My Father has joined me in this moment, speaking through the various points of beauty that surround me. The clear night, the cooler air (a nice break from the summer's daylit breath), the lights, the trees, the mountains in shadow and the train, barely making itself known to me, so distant from it. And that smell. That pre-semester dorm room smell. So much more fresh than it was two months ago and so much quieter.

But it's all just a memory. As much as I'm enjoying this moment of nostalgia; a week in Colorado years ago with my youth group, it's still just a memory in pieces. Except the smell. The real, the here, the now, presents itself again wondering where my mind just went to. But I'm back again.

She's down the hall now, busy with things more important. I'm waiting impatiently. She wants to be done by midnight, there are things that will need her attention in the morning. It's 12:04 am now. The fluorescents need to rest too.

Sigh.

A less than expected beginning on my part, I know. But we'll see where tomorrow, and this month, will take us.