Writing while fading in the rain

An afternoon apart from the office, a mistaken sense of freedom fueled by a dream of riding the Vespa.  Somewhere.  Anywhere.

Sitting in the Pump Station Cafe in Boalsburg, I can feel myself fading, eyes heavy and the desire to crawl in bed and disappear over powers and thought of riding.  Especially in the rain.

Like a sleeping potion, rain and gloom can reach inside and massage my soul into worldly submission.  Thought, movement, awareness — all adrift in a thick sea of sleepy pleasure.

Attention to detail

Next to me stands a cup of hot tea.  Wisps of steam dance wildly.  Tiny beads of moisture line the rim.  I can barely look let alone watch.  My fingers crawl across the keyboard in a slow march as my brain drains away onto the screen.

Soon I’ll take a sip of tea in hope it restores my soul and leads me into green pastures.  If I’m blessed, I may even find myself riding.

Somewhere.
Anywhere.

No Vespa pictures

For a moment I wonder if I’m on a path to another heart attack.  Or just getting old.  Either way, my eye is on the two chocolate chip cookies to my left.  A personal failure to leave them uneaten for some reason.

There are no Vespa pictures and no adventures on the road.

The temperature is perfect as the hot tea strikes my tongue.  A simple pleasure; like a hot shower, rubbing a dog behind the ears, or riding a scooter or motorcycle along an empty road with only the echo of worldy concerns in my head.

The cookies are like a drug, straightening the spine and I reach for the camera. I wonder if climbing mountains or riding across continents can exceed the ecstasy of a good cookie?

The effects are wearing off; the arrival of more people and the attendant din of humanity can only agitate and cause a migration.

The Vespa is at home in the garage.  The rain has slowed to a drizzle.  Brand new tires may be slippery.  The evacuation of Penn State students at the end of the semester have the roads ugly with four-wheeled machines.

Rain clouds overhead

I have no idea where to go or what to do.  A familiar feeling, one I’ve come to appreciate for the unknown adventures in that place.

Nothing is happening.  Anything is possible.

Anything.  Even if I’m fading in the rain.