I went to sleep last night thinkinghow strange it felt to be lying near a window where there was traffic outside and lights illuminated.
A stark contrast to the tranquility of rural, small-town living where time can be kept with the seasons of life and weather.
Where memories are marked and made by the familiar folk around at that time and the times before. Where there is the opportunity for roots to grow down because of continuity instead of meandering out, wide and across various cities we choose to live in.
I woke up this morning not to negative wind chill of 40 (or then a remarkably warmer temp of negative 28) but to at least something in the positive digits.
Traffic sounded, instead of the hum of snow plows switching gears (and communicating to me they are about to head up the hill). The steady stream of white noise from cars tell me many people are on their way to somewhere. I wonder where as I sit and feel more connected to life.