Right now as I sit inside my favorite Grenoble café, I can sense that I’m waiting for rain. How quickly the waiting becomes longing becomes needing. It has been so sunny and warm that now I am needing a cool, crisp rainstorm to roll through.
I always hear the Church bells where I live now. It's that phenomenon where you're so attuned to a place--so familiar with your neighborhood that you know the subtle shifts in movement and sounds. Every half hour, it sounds like a marriage is happening.
Spring has arrived. and the windows are thrown open. And the mornings--the sounds, the smell of it, the way the light plays on River Isère, it undoes me. truly. makes getting out of bed a bit easier. a bit.
And just when it is getting good, I leave. I have to go home, where I know the sounds of my street. I miss the sounds of my neighborhood kids screaming as they tear down the street on bike and scooters. I miss the sound of my families steps as they walk down the hall in the dark. I miss the sound of my dog panting as he sprals out on the cool, hardwood floor.
it's time. to move. to live somewhere new. to learn to listen differently.
