halt

August marches on to a grand halt. Tomorrow is the end. And I have mixed feelings. 

I currently sit in a coffee shop. Pavement is the name. Located in Boston. It’s my third day in a row to sit here, in this very place. I have journaled. Thought. Talked a bit with my son. Drank coffee. Eaten a variety of foods. 


Now I am blogging. On my phone because I chose to not bring my laptop. I have never typed a complete entry utilizing my phone. It has its challenges. But it works. 

Why the mixed emotions as August winds down? Summer is over. Which is an adjustment. Saying hello and good bye to my children. Release. Let go.

It’s akin to the end of a train ride. Stop! HALT! Then get off the train. Which I have now done three days in a row as well. I am in Boston dropping my son at grad school. An interim week of orientation and tests and interviews. With restaurants and museums and exploring in between moving him into an apartment with three guys he has yet to meet. So there’s some anxiety. Some excitement. Some curiosity due to the fact we had to leave our car at Ed and Deborah’s house. Whom we met less than an hour before leaving our car at their house. Yet realizing they are kind and helpful and though not the usual place I keep my car key, it rests at the moment in the back of one of their kitchen drawers. All of that is a story for another day though.

Our mode of transportation currently. The train. It comes to a halt. Stop after stop. Brookline Village. Fenway. Kenmore. You can get off wherever you choose. There’s that freedom. Also the choice to go wherever you please. Work. School. Appointment. The Boston Symphony Orchestra building. Yet. You could just hop off the train and walk. In any direction and end up…anywhere. 

And that’s the crux of it I suppose. August ends tomorrow. A new month and for all intents and purposes despite the temperature, another season. And I am forced to ask myself where I’m gonna go. 

Not necessarily as in literal place. I plan to go to NYC this weekend. To drop off my daughter before heading back home. Yet at that moment, after the “until next time Sweetpea”. When I head west alone that I will realize the jolt. What it feels like when the brakes are fully engaged. And everything stops. No movement for the quickest second then it all changes. People move. Walk. Run. Look ahead. They mind their business and focus. 

The possibilities are unlimited. Yet. They are at the same time, not. Responsibilities and obligations. Reasons beyond my own comprehension. Facts. Duties. Finances. Lack of… Yet I imagine. Dream. Hope. Because that’s what people with my makeup do. Then I ask if it’s all someone elses dream. Idea. Life. 

Yet those thoughts, the line of thinking which removes myself from my own purposes and realities…are a cop out. An excuse to not be. Who I am. 

I am in many ways lost. Not that I do not know where I am or who I am. Lost in the sense I have ended up in a place not entirely of my choosing. And I should decide to find my way. Strangely though, what if that’s the absolute best scenario…when August comes to a halt? 

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