We have moved into our new home. I'm spending my time e-mailing and visiting schools in the hopes of substituting my way into a teaching position. The people here have been so friendly - both on the street and in the schools I've visited- I had forgotten that people are good (in general); I suppose that's not suprising considering my recent history with teaching and my run in with theives in Argentina. I miss D.C. - Alexandria really- the farmers markets, downtown, biking the GW Parkway trail, and most importantly all of my friends - my DC family.
I have made some friends here, we have a built in social network through Eric's department. Plus Alana is here and My cousins are nearby as well. I am significantly closer to my dad and sister.
The town has character and I like it. It seems that I will be able to substitute close to home easily - and hopefully often.
From my back windows - in the reading room, bathroom, kitchen and dining room I have a view of the funeral home next door. I see the families dressed in sombre attire, the hearse, the parade of cars with flags, the street parking meters covered - reserved for the funeral. They seem to host a funeral every few days. Infrequently enough that I am not overwhelmed by death in Pittsburgh. Often enough for death to remain my companion. I am drawn to the funeral home. But what would I say? I've thought it over many times but don't get any farther than "My mother died in January..." I want to crash a funeral - What do other funerals look like? How do other people grieve? Who is dying , and why? The question that haunts me "Why am I dying?" And the pragmatic answer that haunts me too, "You have cancer." Haunts me because it is true, and yet a meaningless answer.
On the plus side I can sleep with my closet door open these days . This is progress.
