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Green and Gray

Here I am sitting at the Cove Ridge Center parking lot and waiting for Courtney to come out from the job fair. Logan was getting restless so I dig aroumd the glove box and find an old NickelCreek CD. I am reminded once again why I like these guys. I was just a whippersnapper when I got into them, and hearing the melodies remind me of a lot of things. Good times, bad times, and all other kinds in between.

Sitting in a room in Indiana waiting for the right time to wind up where I knew I would. I knew that there somewhere around the courthouse square, or in the WalMart parking lot, or even in so dispicable and unlikely a place as the Hall of Dogs, or maybe in the snows and thaws, I left a piece of my past right there.

Sitting in a room in Ohio, listening to the sound of outside city limits. Knowing that even here my days are numbered, the ruins of society were spray painted in the retaining wall and pointed me to the wrong direction.

All this to come home and realize that the boy who felt like he was a man returned a boy still. Growing up isn't a set process, but rather a mish mash of mistakes, one liners, pranks, heartaches, and diasters mixed with all the fluid movements of a symphony.

I think from time to time, we all find ourselves between green and gray, pieces of ourselves both solidly centered and completely apart attached to some.place, or piece of our own history. We are parts of people and places all interwoven with time and memories.

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February 2018
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