A glimpse of the city

I head north on Troost en route to my temporary home.  I could take the Paseo.  Certainly, that would be more direct.  But I crave  the vista which says Kansas City to me.  I pass Operation Breakthrough, then the health department.  Ahead I see the bridge with its burning globes.  I stop, glance, snap, and then inch forward with one eye on the rear view mirror.  God forbid that this vehicle should sustain impact three days before my departure.  No; the street stands empty, and then I freeze a nocturnal glimpse of my beloved the city, a solitary woman standing on the banks of the river, up to date with her towers, her spires, and her Christmas lights.

My path forward takes me through a stretch of industry, and a few blocks eastward.  Then I’m headed north again, past Admiral and around the sweeping bend where mansions bear a cloak of garland in honor of the season.  Soon I pull into the driveway of my incredibly tolerant host and I am home, or what welcomes me as home in my semi-homeless state.  A flutter of papers in the glove box tell the world that I live on Noland Road in Independence.  In truth I live nowhere, or everywhere, or anywhere, taking deep breaths and huge steps towards whatever plan the universe allows me to think that I’ve made.

I rap on the door, beneath the light, fatigue settling in my bones just as my bones in turn begin to sink into the cement under foot.  Then a smile greets me.  I skirt the pile of my belongings which crowds the foyer and dump my pocketbook on the chair.  My companion murmurs, a pleasant hum.  I think, Not for me, the happy life.  Happy husband, happy wife.  A bit of it perhaps:  A week of this domesticity before I venture into the wilds of California.  Water simmers on the stove for tea.  I take off my coat.   My host gestures to a chair, asking about my day, speaking of his.  Suddenly all that matters is the here and now.  Everything else can wait.

It’s the thirteenth day of the forty-eighth month of My Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.

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