I had to drive past my parents’ old house yesterday.
To be honest, I didn’t have to. I needed to. Something tugged me toward it. They moved about three years ago, leaving behind the house I spent all of my high school and college years in. Some of my happiest years, really.
It was a big raised ranch. There were at least six bedrooms, depending on how you counted, and three and a half baths. My brothers and I had our rooms on the bottom floor, right off the family room where we had a big-screen TV. My brothers and I spent nights watching movies on HBO and often awoke on the couch early in the morning.
I felt safe there.
The neighborhood kids were friends of mine. Or at least friendly acquaintances...

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I sat down today hoping I could write something upbeat and cheery. In fact I woke up this morning, writing the words in my head. I played with them as I drove in this morning.
I've been a bit depressed lately and I've had a lot of trouble smiling. I'm tired. I'm lonely. I'm thinking way too much. But today, I told myself, my smile was going to lead me around. Even if it killed me.
It's funny how quickly that can all change. This morning it happened in mere moments. And now I can't remember what I was going to write. I know it had something to do with poetry and love and sunshine. It had something to do with dragging the sun across the sky like Apollo. And it had something to do with hurtling toward a sunrise that's always awaiting the end of my journey...

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I woke up late this morning. The alarm clock blared and I rolled over and turned it off. I was lost in a dream that wouldn't let me go.
It's too bad. No matter how good a dream it was (and it was), it took a few moments out of what was a very good day.
It was one of those days where a smile at the right time and an iced coffee can make your feet lighter, can clear the sleep from your head and make everything seem, well, good.
No, better than that. It could brush dust from your heart and make you feel like loving someone.
This morning, I realized that it isn't my job to drag the sun across the sky; sometimes the sun can wake up before I do. And I realized that there's someone who is happy that I'm alive and worried when I'm down...

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I wasted nearly three hours of my life yesterday looking for my car keys.
I knew I brought them into the building. I knew they were here somewhere. But after tearing everything apart several times, checking everywhere I'd been three times and everywhere I hadn't been at least twice, I decided it was time to give them up for lost.
And then there they were.
They were hidden in a spot I hadn't looked. And they proved the old adage that you always find things in the last place you look.
Some days I feel a lot like those keys during those frantic hours. Without the right person holding them, a set of keys is pretty useless. They can't unlock secrets and they can't offer the warmth and protection of the car. They can't take you anywhere...

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I thought a lot about my grandmother last night.
I'm not really sure why she picked last night to visit with me, but I felt her there. I almost smelled her...the scent of Lysol and potpourri I always associated with her.
Gram died probably seven years ago now, in a way that scared and deflated me. You'd have to have known her to understand, I guess, but she was always a tough woman. She was little and red-haired and filled with energy. She cleaned her home constantly and cookie crumbs on her kitchen floor enraged her. When she died, it was in a hospital bed, with tubes doing her breathing for her.
I always hate remembering her that way. I kept vigil at the hospital for about a week, waiting and hoping that she'd come around and tell us all to stop crying...

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I haven't seen a light on next door since before Christmas. It's been heartbreaking each day to pull into my driveway to see Walter's home so dark and lonely. I've stopped by, but no answer at the door.
Saturday morning I heard a strange sound outside. I felt hopeful for a few moments when I saw Walter's wife, busy at sweeping the sidewalk -- which is sufficiently strange a thing to do in January to warrant a smile. I put on my shoes and went outside without my jacket.
I said hello and asked how she was.
"I'm okay," she said. "Sometimes."
She looked away.
Walter, she told me, broke his hip and is still in the hospital. But how is she? I saw tears in her eyes and she tried to hustle away. After offering her any help I could, I retreated...

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Some days you just feel like breaking something. Most often they're the days when you feel broken. As the saying goes, misery loves company, so maybe we smash what's around us so we aren't alone and in pieces.
It's especially hard to look around and see things that should be so simple to keep together fall apart in front of you, like houses made of cards. And maybe life is more like a house of cards than we'd like to believe...build it as strong as you can, but the right wind will knock it down. The right foot will crush it flat...

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Next time you're driving east on Route 690, take a look to your left just after you past the West Street exit and think of me.
That guardrail is my gift to commuters. It's a little plain, I know, but I wasn't really given the opportunity to pick it out. I did, however, pay for it.
As it turns out, the state Department of Transportation is holding me responsible for the damage to that guardrail. Yes, I smashed my Buick into it at about 65 mph.
Nothing like kicking a guy when he's down, New York.
I didn't try to have an accident back in June. In fact, I tried awful hard to not have an accident. The truck next to me, however, had different ideas...

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