7:00am. . .I woke up earlier and peeked out at the neighborhood and the pecan trees. All seems quiet and peaceful, covered with a crisp layer of frost.
Now that I'm all settled in (and rested) I've been thinking over the events of yesterday and absorbing them. I often think of how "distance" has changed over the years and how glad I am to live in a time when it doesn't have to separate us from the people we love -- regardless of how resistant I am at times to pry myself loose from French Woods.
As a child, I was quite accustomed to train travel but those trips to visit grandparents were much shorter and, of course, a lot has changed since then. My pleasure in "window gazing," however, is something that has not changed. Oh, the places your mind can take you if you just surrender completely. Sitting on a train, suspended in time, gazing through the window at life's ever-changing slideshow can tap into all sorts of emotional analogies, parallels -- whatever you want to call them. Afterward, there is serenity and a sense that all is well with your soul and that God most assuredly is Good.
Oh, and did I mention imaginary humorous scenerios? While we were stopped for awhile at Union Station, I entertained the fantasy of taking my violin down from overhead and playing music out on the platform while passers by threw coins in the case. I mentioned this to Allen and we snickered.
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