Going Bananas
This should be a post about my home life, and it could be, but it’s not. As those who follow this page are no doubt aware, I (also) love my commute. It’s actually one of the things that I think I’d miss most about this whole city if we were we to end up moving down the line… No offense, friends.
I love walking to the train in the morning, listening to music or some podcast, or sometimes nothing, mostly covering the same ground, but seeing new things every day. I love sitting on the train, reading, writing, or just people watching for 15-minutes. And then I especially love when we all get off the train at the end and pour out into the street like a wild swarm of worker bees (let’s do this thing!). I even have a special song I usually play real loud as we make our way across the bridge toward the big buildings.
Naturally, I also love my walk to the train after work (free at last!), yapping with my coworker George about any number of things. I love that I usually time it so that I get to the station and board my train just 30-seconds before the doors close. And then I totally savor sitting there on the way home, looking out the window, thinking back on the day that was and jotting down ideas for tomorrow, before putting work aside and envisioning the night ahead.
But today… So there’s a new “French Market” that opened in the train station. They’ve got all these great vendors for everything from fresh seafood to wine to you name it. This morning, I was kind of craving some fruit. We happened to have no fruit in the house, which is my fault. I stopped at the market though, and guess how much it cost for a big beautiful Florida navel orange and a nice ripe banana? 85-cents, total.
And that’s how this post came to be impetus for a new tag, which I intend fully to use in the near future on a post that relates to my home life, but today it’s about the world as experienced through my commute: “You didn’t have to love me like you did… But you did, but you did… And I thank you.”
