Or The Highway
The house smelled like summer, in its incipient stage. Chest full of air just to try and contain it, like the softness when you walk into the beach house you rented sand and coppertone white tile floor and nothing pressing to do that day, smell of coffee perfuming the late morning air. You can drink it all, too, there's always another pot. "There are always more cigarettes," she said, eight lifetimes ago. When we would stay up all night talking on the deck or Paul H and how we had Jay call him from the phone in the gym, and she was right. There always were more.
It gets harder each time, but easier too in a way. The strange symbiosis and I wonder if anyone else goes through it. Or if it's limited just to those born as two. You can take or leave any situation in life, probably, because there is always something so much greater than one. There is so much strength in that, more than I have perhaps ever realized. To be blessed so. I don't know when it happened but it was sometime last night when I smiled for how spoiled we are by each other. But that I wouldn't change any part of it.
My class starts tomorrow. Last night we drove past the Cleveland Clinic and I imagined the life I will be living when I make that trek several times a week, winter especially, a thought that both thrills and frightens. I woke up one day last week, and I said that I want every third day and that entire this could be the night! your name on the board next to nozzle or second man or hydros, everything that goes along with it. It's funny (insane) to me how long we have all spent talking about it like it's simply something that either magically happens or doesn't. But I decided that one of those third days is mine, and I have to claim it, and so here we go. It's paramedic first. I may be too old, but what else is there for it? Nothing. To finish the 240 is next and I believe there will be some divine intervention that happens so that I can do that and work.
It's so impossible to explain the smell in there of diesel and of nomex when you first walk into the bay late summer sun streaming in over top of 42 and how the heart races with the baritone rumble once the engine turns over and the hiss of the airbrake releasing. And how infuriating it is when you work with people who don't still get excited about it. How it's that exact feeling of going on a first date, how you become billy bad-ass, how it takes everything in you not to just grin the entire time. Infinite possibility. And that I could have that, every third day. Will have. Do have. Just have to finish getting there.
It gets harder each time, but easier too in a way. The strange symbiosis and I wonder if anyone else goes through it. Or if it's limited just to those born as two. You can take or leave any situation in life, probably, because there is always something so much greater than one. There is so much strength in that, more than I have perhaps ever realized. To be blessed so. I don't know when it happened but it was sometime last night when I smiled for how spoiled we are by each other. But that I wouldn't change any part of it.
My class starts tomorrow. Last night we drove past the Cleveland Clinic and I imagined the life I will be living when I make that trek several times a week, winter especially, a thought that both thrills and frightens. I woke up one day last week, and I said that I want every third day and that entire this could be the night! your name on the board next to nozzle or second man or hydros, everything that goes along with it. It's funny (insane) to me how long we have all spent talking about it like it's simply something that either magically happens or doesn't. But I decided that one of those third days is mine, and I have to claim it, and so here we go. It's paramedic first. I may be too old, but what else is there for it? Nothing. To finish the 240 is next and I believe there will be some divine intervention that happens so that I can do that and work.
It's so impossible to explain the smell in there of diesel and of nomex when you first walk into the bay late summer sun streaming in over top of 42 and how the heart races with the baritone rumble once the engine turns over and the hiss of the airbrake releasing. And how infuriating it is when you work with people who don't still get excited about it. How it's that exact feeling of going on a first date, how you become billy bad-ass, how it takes everything in you not to just grin the entire time. Infinite possibility. And that I could have that, every third day. Will have. Do have. Just have to finish getting there.
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