Sunday, September 05, 2004
It's About to Rain
I came back from dinner and marched into my room in a fury. I tossed my German textbook, three notebooks, and a calculator in my backpack. I grabbed my cell phone, made sure I had my keys and wallet, tossed on an old, gray raggedy sweater with a white hoodie and stormed out of the room as quickly as I entered. September 5, 2004, and I'm wearing a sweater. So the winter's starting early this year.
I tried making phone calls to a few friends with whom I wanted to talk, in whom I could confide because I needed a friendly voice on the line and I needed an ear that would listen. No one answered, so I kept climbing the steep hill leading up to main campus. I felt the cool wind blowing strongly and flapping the left side of my hoodie against my face. I got to the top of the hill and walked to edge of the steepest part.
I could see the rain rolling in between the eroded mountains. To the south, the small passageway between the ancient hills was covered in a dense gray obscurity. To the north I could see Cayuga Lake, narrow and long, nestled between two hills. In the middle, in the valley I could see the small city of Ithaca, renowned for its "charm," its friendliness towards small businesses and the last of the hippies. On the southern edge of the city, I could see the new developments, a Wal-Mart, a K-Mart, an Office Max, a Barnes and Noble. Just beyond the developments I could see the last traffic jam leading out of the city. I watched it, red, and I saw it turn green. I followed the gray road past the dot of green and watched it blend in with the ominous clouds in the distance. I could smell the rain coming.
I tried making phone calls to a few friends with whom I wanted to talk, in whom I could confide because I needed a friendly voice on the line and I needed an ear that would listen. No one answered, so I kept climbing the steep hill leading up to main campus. I felt the cool wind blowing strongly and flapping the left side of my hoodie against my face. I got to the top of the hill and walked to edge of the steepest part.
I could see the rain rolling in between the eroded mountains. To the south, the small passageway between the ancient hills was covered in a dense gray obscurity. To the north I could see Cayuga Lake, narrow and long, nestled between two hills. In the middle, in the valley I could see the small city of Ithaca, renowned for its "charm," its friendliness towards small businesses and the last of the hippies. On the southern edge of the city, I could see the new developments, a Wal-Mart, a K-Mart, an Office Max, a Barnes and Noble. Just beyond the developments I could see the last traffic jam leading out of the city. I watched it, red, and I saw it turn green. I followed the gray road past the dot of green and watched it blend in with the ominous clouds in the distance. I could smell the rain coming.
