nomad

I am sitting in my old neighborhood; the sun is out, I look and feel great besides the fact that I am currently a nomad. Starbucks is my place until both my computer and phone charge. Every door I went and knocked on was vacant. I thought about going to my place to see if my renters were home and would let me hang out for a while but I thought better of it. The day that was open for possibilities is slowly slipping away from me. I have run a few errands, had coffee with Anne, lunch with Amy, and awaiting calls back to fill my card for happy hour. I picked up a trip to ol’ LGW just so I can have peace of mind not being on call tomorrow. Manhattan seems a lifetime away right now; I doubt I will return to the apartment until after my trip, as it is such an ordeal to get back and forth.

A day ago I mourned the loss of my father officially at his service followed by the reception. It was an easier process than first thought. I suppose it is due to the two months I have had to let it all sink in. With the support of my ladies, I made it through with a handful of tears. But let me tell you, when they played Taps on the trumpet, I let the tears flow.