BLURRY

The drive to work looks different this week. I have a 40 mile drive which takes me upwards of 90 minutes. That in and of itself is enough to make one want to move closer to work, but that’s another story for another day. During those stressful 90 minutes, I take plenty of surface streets and various short-cuts, none of which work very well. But they do give me the chance to observe people, places, and things rather than just I-95, affectionately known as The Big Slab.

The streets these days are filled with children with backpacks, yellow school buses, school zone traffic signals blinking, crossing guards with day-glo gloves, and a ton more cars on the road. Yes, school is in; summer is over (not technically but you get the gist). The more I thought about this, the more it saddened me. I just recently read a post from Quotablex about her summer, too. The post and my commute got me thinking.

When I was in school, elementary or high school or even up to my sophomore year in college, there always seemed to be finite periods of time. Seasons perhaps. As kids, we looked forward to vacation times. Winter break around Christmas time, Spring Break in March, and everyone’s favorite, the long two or three-month summer vacation.

I loved summer vacation. Summer vacation meant visits from dad, longer days when the sun stayed out past 8 o’clock, July 4th fireworks, days at the beach, days at the golf course, Summer Camp, BBQs, and never having to wear anything but shorts, t-shirts, and flip flops. Summertime always flew by, didn’t it? How many of our great memories were from great times had during the summer? Jeez, the worst week of the year was that last week of summer vacation. All the fun coming to a grinding halt and more time spent shopping for new clothes and school supplies.

Yeah, back then, summer really meant something. I miss those carefree days. I even miss the actual feeling of looking forward to summer approaching. I don’t miss the disappointment of that last weekend knowing school was starting on Monday. Or do I? Nowadays, and really since my Junior year in college, it’s all been a blur to me because of work. Spring melds right into summer and before you know it, it’s Fall. Sheesh, I didn’t really realize summer was over until this week when all the school buses came out of hiding. And that’s what makes me sad. Seasons have no meaning anymore. Days go by, seasons change, but it’s all pea soup-foggy to me. It’s one long, continuous season. Sassy just wrote about being stuck in a rut. I made a comment that ruts are easy to get into and tough to get out of. I think I might be stuck, too. I need to find a new place to live, be excited about coming home once again, get off the couch, buy a heavenly bed or a reasonable facsimile thereof, finish my book, find a nice new friend to go out with and have some fun, or find a long-distance person willing to simply hang out here for a weekend. Something new, a departure from the norm, a new memory, anything to get out of the fog and out of the rut. (Yes, I’m aware of these sentence fragments. I guess it’s my stream of consciousness writing style. Sorry.) Where am I going with this life? Is someone going to eventually accompany me? Damn, everything’s so blurry. Even these damn meds are making my head blurry. Can I make it without them? I’m having doubts and this fuzzy feeling isn’t helping. I guess for now, my daily commute of snarled traffic jams and the herds of stop sign-flagged school buses are my reminders of how time used to be so clearly and wonderfully defined, shaped with great memories with little time for getting stuck in rutsville. I’d ready for a little clarity. Yeah, clarity would really help. Don’tcha think?