back to sales tax, or thoughts during the last leg of this incredible week's journey

We crossed the big river fifteen minutes ago. I figured you and your group would've had plane tickets there and back again, since ours is a long enough journey.

We crossed the river, and before that and now after that, the moon has been hidden behind smokey gray clouds that are masking a darkish blue sky that melts into navy the farther you look up into space. Anyway, the moon is still bright behind those clouds, and the landscape is open, and tan, and reflecting the color; it is dark out, it is night, but it is also bright.

I have a feeling you would have liked it here tonight. I hope I painted that picture well.

Why the fuck can't I stop thinking about you? I only just met you. Maybe I wanted to make a stupid decision about you, but you strike me as a good person, so you probably would have deflected any sultry stares and sentences I sent your way.

The inky, spike-shaped shadows blurring past our windows tell me that we've hit the pines.

It has been such a long journey. So full of theatre and people. I love what we do. I went there expecting to accomplish one thing, lost it, gave up, and ended up finding a different prospective future. Hell, forget prospective, I want to do it, so badly--it may take me a while to accomplish this goal, but finally, for the first time since I graduated, I have a specific goal, a real plan for my future. And I cried and laughed and felt so much. I love what we do. I love it. I am utterly sold on my chosen career field.

I've realized lately that while I like the occasional blue-eyed looker, most of the men upon whom I secretly fixate (oh god, that sounds obsessive, I swear I'm not, I'm not crazy, I'll leave you alone if that's what you want) have brown eyes. Brown eyes to get lost in. Brown eyes full of mystery, like I can't tell what you want. But thanks for texting me back, at least.

Still trees. Lord Huron's "Ends of the Earth" is on repeat in my head (thank you, dear). Follow her to the ends of the earth, if that's what you both want. Seriously.

I just think that, were I to travel for an indefinite amount of time, you'd make a great companion.

Almost home. Not really home, a couch, but a father, and sleep, and a couple of job prospects. Home--for now.