I can't get this out of my head or my heart...

Today Samara Learned... [Day 9]

that she saves cards and letters from people for a reason.  Because some days are just too frustrating or saddening to go alone.  Reading or re-reading letters remind her of the things that truly define her and of the courage she had forgot she had.  And even hundreds of miles away from people who love her, she can feel close to them through those words.

Metamorphosis, Pt. 3

It is late, dark, wet and I'm trying to get home as fast as possible.

I am cruising just fine, wipers on their highest speed when an accident up ahead brings traffic to a halt and I decide to detour on back roads to get around this obstacle.  Even though this takes me through an unfamiliar part of the city, I dismiss the map on my phone. So what if it takes a few extra turns.  I should be able to figure it out if I dare to call myself a Seattlite. 

And I do.  Soon enough I'm taking a left at the genesis of Interstate-90.  This bridge will take me home.  If I let it, it could take me all the way to Boston.  I've followed it that way before.  The ends of a road fascinate me.  It's an inexplicable sense that I find every time I go there - where that long of a road runs into the water.  I think it's the Hobbit in me; "The road goes ever on and on..."

And then I'm in the tunnels, moving fast under lights.  Like the movies, I'm driving and weighing decisions - but they're nothing compared to the weight of my heart.  My heart is trying to say so many things at once.

I'm thinking of the future. And past. And of the film I just watched. Of how much heartbreak we can handle. Of the music. Of the parking ticket that's drying on my dash. Of how difficult relationships are. Of what it would be like to get to know different mountain ranges.

Of how things can be light and dark at the same time.

Speaking of... I don't know if this is unique to Seattle, (but I like to think it is) we get these schizophrenic spring days where you can be in golden light, needing your sunglasses and yet at the same time be rained on.  Usually just a system rolling through.  But the phenomenon seems an apt description for the melancholy beauty I see in things.

Thoughts keep rushing by faster than my wheels.

But then, I turn into my driveway.  I turn once again inward to the stillness.