This afternoon, I was driving home from the grocery store and because the radio, as it frequently is, was inundated with bad pop and arena rock, I turned to the local NPR station, hoping Mark Pennell was playing something soothing or at least something fitting. The world in all directions was characteristically spring: the sky a series of dark blues indecisive as to whether giving up their rain is a good idea, swirly white streaks highlighting the anger in those blues, every tiny bud on every long-suffering tree neon against the dark but clearing sky, six or seven blues represented at once and the proud green preening in front of them all. And between the piano and the sky and the way I couldn’t see much of the flatness of the road ahead of me, I was, as I frequently am, transported back to Narragansett, to the first time and the second time and the third time and the fourth and fifth times I sat in J’s passenger seat under those same skies, listening to that same music, as we drove to where? A grocery store, a restaurant, the beach. I felt so alive, so like I was exactly where I was supposed to be in contrast to how I feel here, and the sleep I haven’t gotten since I left Rhode Island last.
There is a lot on my mind, I admit: constant J anxieties, varied financial anxieties, not to mention sleep deprivation and all manner of other characteristic INFP worries, but for another day, I can convince myself that maybe things’ll turn out okay so long as the sky looks like that and so long as my memory is so clear.
We’ll see how it goes.
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It’s April.
Posted by lani in baseball
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