I read an essay today about traffic in Russia. It brought me back to a time when I very much wanted to take the Trans-Siberian Railway. I still have the 20 year old magazine with the story that sparked the idea to go. Was it the idea of being so immersed in a foreign place? That it seemed like such a rare thing to do? Or was it the idea of having a crazy train story about chugging vodka with strangers? In that way it feels like forever ago.
It also feels like there was a tiny window in which it was feasible to go. The political climate in the last few years would make the idea of going now a resounding hell no.
Could this be my take two? It’s interesting that the short story today happened to be about someone coming off as boring or standoffish, but once people got to know her and realized she had lots of interesting stories about traveling to far off countries, she was suddenly cool. Would I have been that different if I actually went? What will the train, the country, what will I be like in another 20 years?
I’ve also been thinking about how if I’m looking forward to something, I rush past the time it takes to get there. We’re going to spend 2 weeks in Colorado, and for the last few weeks, everything has been focused on the day we head out.
What about these past three weeks? They’re like a waiting room all of a sudden. Why aren’t I savoring and seeing these weeks? These beautiful days are right in front of me. I guess that’s part of why journaling is helpful. I can see that these weren’t just empty days. We watched Murderbot and ate popsicles and took walks and talked about life with friends. Made couch snacks and watched Secret Life of Pets 2 and enjoyed it especially the part where Max asks “was the world always this scary?” and helped kiddo through all sorts of crises, like why she can’t get married yet, how to deal with people who yell, and why isn’t it time to leave for Colorado yet.
Today’s reading
Poem: The Art of Unselfing by Safiya Sinclair 2015
Essay: Stuck by Keith Gessen 2010
Short Story: A Fortunate Mistake by Lucy Maud Montgomery 1904
Leave a Reply