It started with a cold rainy day, a rare happening in September on this side of Texas.
A stunning sunset, which I attempt and fail to capture in all its glory while holding on to my umbrella with one shoulder.
A bus ride in the pitch-dark night, raindrops smearing the light of the sparse streetlights on the windows.
A young man gets on. He has long, wavy blond hair, sideburns, a mustache, and a goatee. His hands are white and very fine. With his red velvet jacket and philosophy book, his name could be Jean-Baptiste, he could be a university student in an 18th century Paris. Alas, my stop arrives and pulls me out of my reverie while I walk back into present day.
With three pounds of apples, a bottle of juice and a bottle of milk, I totter back to the stop. I set my bag down and waltz with an old childhood friend, Bach's Cello Suites. It is late at night for shopping, the buses are sparse. At 20:36, exactly on schedule as predicted by the City transportation authorities, an empty bus surges out of the gloom and picks me up.
Still trailing a faint aroma of spearmint, caraway, and naphthalene, the results of the evening's laboratory work, I choose a spot and look at the transformed world beyond the foggy window. Back on campus, there are many students waiting at the stop. A late class, or possibly a lab.
The walk back to my dorm is deserted, save for the bats, illuminated by the light from the belltower. A drum solo floats out of the round stone building that looks like an Italian casa, courtyard and all.
In my room, I make a perfect cup of hot chocolate: thick, creamy, slightly bitter but still sweet.
I have no lab to write up, no problem sets to work through, no test to study for.
I feel happy.
A stunning sunset, which I attempt and fail to capture in all its glory while holding on to my umbrella with one shoulder.
A bus ride in the pitch-dark night, raindrops smearing the light of the sparse streetlights on the windows.
A young man gets on. He has long, wavy blond hair, sideburns, a mustache, and a goatee. His hands are white and very fine. With his red velvet jacket and philosophy book, his name could be Jean-Baptiste, he could be a university student in an 18th century Paris. Alas, my stop arrives and pulls me out of my reverie while I walk back into present day.
With three pounds of apples, a bottle of juice and a bottle of milk, I totter back to the stop. I set my bag down and waltz with an old childhood friend, Bach's Cello Suites. It is late at night for shopping, the buses are sparse. At 20:36, exactly on schedule as predicted by the City transportation authorities, an empty bus surges out of the gloom and picks me up.
Still trailing a faint aroma of spearmint, caraway, and naphthalene, the results of the evening's laboratory work, I choose a spot and look at the transformed world beyond the foggy window. Back on campus, there are many students waiting at the stop. A late class, or possibly a lab.
The walk back to my dorm is deserted, save for the bats, illuminated by the light from the belltower. A drum solo floats out of the round stone building that looks like an Italian casa, courtyard and all.
In my room, I make a perfect cup of hot chocolate: thick, creamy, slightly bitter but still sweet.
I have no lab to write up, no problem sets to work through, no test to study for.
I feel happy.
5 comments:
Great writing - as always - and I love the umbrella shot.
I love the clause: while I walk back into the present day.
And Scriptor's said the rest!
For being a scientist, you have a penetrating, eloquent, and thought-provoking Romantic side.
The description of the young man reminded me of myself--minus, of course, the sideburns and mustache, which would be beyond me.
This is fantastic writing, and my favorite post from you thus far.
Strangely enough, BB, I did think of you when I saw that young man. I toyed with the thought that he could be you, but it seemed too unlikely. His hair really did look like yours. It was golden and beautiful.
Oh, my gosh, you actually wondered if it was me? That made my day. I love the mystery of it.
Unfortunately I'm nowhere near there, but if I ever am I'll let you know.
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