so, all my few and faithful readers. i am starting a new blog. (kind of like starting a new journal)
i guess it is symbolic of a new era
or maybe i just wanted to make my own template.
either way, my new blog is
www.livethelifethatunfolds.blogspot.com
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
sitting in the kalamazoo train station...
sitting in the kalamazoo train station this morning. surrounded by an eccentric mosaic. business people on their way into the city for something important. blackberry and laptop in hand. stoic expressions. then there is the clingy boyfriend and girlfriend, unashamedly making out right before he leaves to catch his bus. she puts the hoody on of her printed forever 21 sweatshirt. makeup dissolves genuine depth or expression. the man with the blue dimpled sweater and plaid collared shirt contentedly reads the morning paper. jovial as he converses with the conductor and the passengers he happens to be near. there is also a group of guys. baggy jeans. huge jackets.
and then, amidst this strange concoction of bored, discontent faces are a couple of children. probably four and six years old. a little boy and girl. their mom is tired. hardened. you can almost see the trials under her eyes.
unkept hair, empty expression. she watches her children passively, only interacting with them to yell or rebuke.
the train station seems an empty, hollow inconvenience. waiting for the train which is later than expected. merely sitting. observing. everyone tired
but not the children. the them the station is another world to explore. they run and jump on vacant benches. the hardwood a slide, glossy and inviting.
the seats by the ceiling high windows are an obstacle course.
there is adventure to be found here.
they run back and forth, touching the textures of the walls, laughing...they stop only because they are enthralled by the giant globe-shaped light on the ceiling or the trusses that branch above the canopy of the world.
their mother snaps at them to keep their feet off the benches. but it does not stifle their spirit. she yells at them half-heartedly, because part of her thinks she shouldn't let her children run unchecked in a public place, and perhaps the rest of her doesn't really care because she is so worn.
i sit, observing. wanting to run around with the little girl as she jumps from floor tile to floor tile.
there is a giant compass painted on the floor. i notice it because of the cardinal directions. and i am somewhat impatiently waiting to go west, my thoughts directed to the journey about to commence, and about the destination of the city, and about my week, my next few months, my next few years.
she notices the compass, too. but it is because of the shapes and the colors. the way it ties into the enchantment of the old train station waiting room.
and she runs around the circle, stepping on north, south, east, and west. she is waiting to go somewhere, too. but she is caught up in the beauty of this place. she soaks it in.
and my discontent eyes that at first saw only the mundane,
begin to catch a glimpse of the magical...
and then, amidst this strange concoction of bored, discontent faces are a couple of children. probably four and six years old. a little boy and girl. their mom is tired. hardened. you can almost see the trials under her eyes.
unkept hair, empty expression. she watches her children passively, only interacting with them to yell or rebuke.
the train station seems an empty, hollow inconvenience. waiting for the train which is later than expected. merely sitting. observing. everyone tired
but not the children. the them the station is another world to explore. they run and jump on vacant benches. the hardwood a slide, glossy and inviting.
the seats by the ceiling high windows are an obstacle course.
there is adventure to be found here.
they run back and forth, touching the textures of the walls, laughing...they stop only because they are enthralled by the giant globe-shaped light on the ceiling or the trusses that branch above the canopy of the world.
their mother snaps at them to keep their feet off the benches. but it does not stifle their spirit. she yells at them half-heartedly, because part of her thinks she shouldn't let her children run unchecked in a public place, and perhaps the rest of her doesn't really care because she is so worn.
i sit, observing. wanting to run around with the little girl as she jumps from floor tile to floor tile.
there is a giant compass painted on the floor. i notice it because of the cardinal directions. and i am somewhat impatiently waiting to go west, my thoughts directed to the journey about to commence, and about the destination of the city, and about my week, my next few months, my next few years.
she notices the compass, too. but it is because of the shapes and the colors. the way it ties into the enchantment of the old train station waiting room.
and she runs around the circle, stepping on north, south, east, and west. she is waiting to go somewhere, too. but she is caught up in the beauty of this place. she soaks it in.
and my discontent eyes that at first saw only the mundane,
begin to catch a glimpse of the magical...
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