I’m worried that all of my stories are past-tense. On the other hand I have a lot of fantastic past-tense stories. It seems to imply a good deal of good Living, and hopefully that’s a pattern that I’ll get to continue, even though the only road stories I tell nowadays seem to involve my nemesis, I-95.
Today… we’re rolling down I-95. Case in point. The sun is bright and far too warm but the air is cool and the breeze is cold and when we get out of the Kristen-mobile in wherever-we’re-going Virginia I plan to appreciate the atmosphere as much as possible before being loaded into a church for the evening to run cameras and lights and Life for Kristen’s CLASSY band, Anthem.
The last couple of days we’ve had the company of Anna P.S., whose story I barely know. Everything I THOUGHT I knew is subtly incorrect and I’ve given up trying. However, since, as her stories unfold over gigs and my own failed introductions, I’m beginning to believe this has more to do with her communication skills rather than my lack of paying attention. Though she claims this is “fair” in truth I’m sure it’s a solid combination of failures on both sides.
She’s got road stories and music stories and stories of home front frustrations. I know many, many artists – and she’s one that has always come across as incredibly genuine for the 6 or so years that I’ve known her.
We swap tales, most of mine are older than hers, but I’m okay with it… I feel like she’s giving me a breath of fresh air from the highways that I miss so intensely. She’s tired of it though and is at least taking a break this winter. Depending on when she’s telling the tale sometimes it sounds like she’s so frustrated with the Job that she’s ready to quit, other moments sound more like she just needs to reset for a while and is eager to be back to it.
I understand both versions of this.
We watch cartoons and music videos. She introduces us to something new and we return the favour. The universe is vast and I’m grateful for its infinite variability. I Love being home. I hate being home. I miss the highway.