the places I go

I'm so sorry I didn't write a Monday post. I really like to have a nice, pretty post for you on Monday. But I couldn't make it this time - I was in Manhattan.

Well, I was in Google's Manhattan. I flew over it to get my bearings. Washington Square Park to Central Park - is far. And then I took it to the streets. Did you know you could do this with Google? I'm sure you do. You can walk right down Fifth Avenue. You can read the words on the buildings. You can see people and those little metal things that look like the You-Are-Here maps in a mall (what are those things?), and you can see trucks. Oh so many trucks. People must always be either getting something or sending something away from every other business in New York City all the time. I have to admit, the trucks sort of take away from the charm for me.

My visit is all because my main character is visiting there, and who knows, maybe I will visit there for real before this book sees the light of day. But between you, me, and Google - I am imagining up one heck of a reaction to this city just from my cyber walk.

But that's not what I wanted to say really. I wanted to show you this:

This is my drive to work. I turn directly onto this road and follow that curve to work. And this picture isn't thrilling, because - well, the pictures never are as good - and because it's not yet the peak of fall, which should happen in the next week or so. But I'm telling you. When I drive through tree-covered hills like that to work and get all serenity-nowed before the day - I feel grateful. The only thing I can imagine that would make a Manhattan commute more satisfying is that I could probably read.

But that's not all I wanted to show you either. Because even though I like my drive to work, and I'm pretty cool with work itself (though my cubicle seriously needs some pictures), I don't like it nearly as well as the picture I get at eleven when all returns right with the world. Because although I feel happier in my workplace than I remember feeling on the job in a very long time, there's still this crazy-strong gravitational pull toward home and my children and the things I love the most.

I pick up Jake at eleven o'clock. I drive back through the tree-covered hills, all the way through town and to the school building where I dropped him off at 8. I go inside and hear them call his name, and he comes to me, so happy - like he's just been to heaven itself only I'm still better than that. And I ask him about his day as we drive back home together from where I'll work the rest of my hours while he watches Dragon Tales or plays an imaginary game. And that's why this picture is the real serenity now.