As I was driving home Sunday morning after spending a night with Keith, I was overwhelmed with a sense of wonder.
He and I ate at a funky burger joint the night before. A cool place that is frequented by the local college crowd. The place was crowded with youth. Which means it was filled with laughter, conversation, energy, and unbridled positivity. Because life has not yet robbed them of hope and optimism. Beautiful.
It was fucking great. And the burgers were damn good.
Then we went to a UNH/Boston College hockey game and watched a game that was so good it should have been illegal. BC is #1 in the country, UNH is pretty shaky. BC should have won 58 to 0. Instead, UNH took them to OT, and then a shoot out, when they finally lost. Heart-braking.
Again, the arena was rocking. Lots of youth and lots of alumni exuding equal intensity of enthusiasm. The atmosphere was fantastic.
I spent the night in a hotel and headed home in the morning.
Travelling from Belmont to Portsmouth and vice versa, GPS's first choice is a route that follows back roads. And I mean some seriously back roads. There is even a half mile stretch of dirt road along the way.
I navigated that route once before and was afraid that GPS was shitfaced. I could not believe it. I was so worried that it was all wrong that I didn't enjoy the ride as much as I should have. But it did make an impression on me. It was gorgeous and left an imprint in my brain.
Ironically on the way to meet Keith I avoided it and took a typically boring route. But on the way home I was a bit looser and went with the flow.
Spending the night with Keith greased the skids. Spending time with my sons is the best thing that can happen to me. It opens me up and makes me come alive. We had a great night and I was happy. So when I drove home my senses were wide open and receptive.
New England, man - it is beautiful. Even on a 14 degree morning when the ground is covered in snow. I was thinking about these hardy people hunkered down at home on a freezing Sunday morning living their lives free of work and obligations for a day, reading the Sunday paper, having a special breakfast, being themselves unfettered and feeling alive.
New Englanders are indeed a special breed.
Stereotypical New England homes. So much character. My head was on the swivel, which was OK because it was Sunday morning early, there was no traffic at all, and the speed limits were conservative.
Abandoned pickup trucks in the yard. Falling down fences, peeling paint, porches on the slant, steps in need of repair. Beautifully maintained houses, freshly painted and in good condition, expensive trucks, farmer's porches inviting me to visit, smoke billowing out of chimneys. I drove through it all in sheer amazement.
Wonder welled up inside of me uncontrollably, making me feel so good that three years were added on to my life. No question.
I came to a four-way intersection and sat at the stop sign alone, just sat there for minutes because the view was so damn gorgeous. Surrounded by funky houses, yards, smoking chimneys, sun bouncing off windowpanes, snowdrifts sparkling.
Eventually a car came from my left and another from my right and stopped at the stop signs. Still, I sat. Until I realized they were waiting for me since I was there first. I looked at one driver, then the other, and they were both staring at me. So I turned left and kept on appreciating.
I am trying very hard to hold on to the nourishing good vibe that originated on Saturday night and Sunday morning. Doing pretty good too.
There is hope for me yet, surprisingly.
