Muses

The more things change. The more they stay the same.

Monday night I drove to South Carolina to pick up our son.

No. This is not the opening scene of a slasher movie.

I’m in the parking lot, waiting for him to emerge from the dorm.

On the drive there, I alternated between Christmas music and blues.

I’m enjoying mining the depths of blues because I find it impossible to connect with a lot of the newer music.

It’s not that I’m blue .  .  . I just appreciate authenticity.

It was great to ride two and a half hours back with my son.

We stopped at Chick-Fil-A for him. Starbucks for me.

We talked about football. He explained his literature zombie class so that it actually sounded  . . .  er, literary.

He admitted mentioned that he was sort of, maybe dating someone.

Now almost 24 hours later, he has disappeared again. Into the woods to spend the night with friends, those mountain men.

Although he was already gone, traces of his presence remained. A pile of blankets on the couch.

And ESPN blaring to no one.

For the first time in a while Skip Bayless made me smile.

 

 

Linking up with Greta @Gfunkied and Julie @Mamamash for another Wednesday’s iPPP.

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