my morning.

I dropped mom off this morning at the school where she teaches. She���s been filling in for a teacher for a couple weeks and has about a month to go. I like driving in the morning. It wakes me up and throws me into reality���or at least my little Cambridge reality, which is small, I suppose, but still a reality. Mine.

It was easy to talk with her this morning. I enjoy mom and me most when we���re alone���driving or taking a walk. It���s no chore at those times to be with her. Conversations are easy and well balanced between each other. Neither talk too often and neither ignore. We have a mutual connection that I keep realizing the farther I move away from her.

This morning I talked of wall ball and how much I respect and like Kyrie. I tried to get her to listen to Aimee Mann but to no avail. She has tolerance for the Beatles and that���s about it. She asked questions about my friends and talked of our neighbors, Mr. Chris and Mrs. Lisa. I mentioned I had lunch with them the other day and think of them as my second parents and how I love their friendship with each other.

I like our dynamic; mom and me. Sometimes I like it more when we live farther apart but at home, when we���re careful and aware of one another��� enjoy and appreciation comes easily.

I dropped her off. She called back to me that she had forgot her lunch. I turned around to get it but she yelled again, ���Nevermind. I have money. See you tonight, sweetie.���

I turned Aimee Mann back up and skipped to track three. When I turned out of the school I took a different way home because I hadn���t driven around yet since I���ve been back and I wanted to see my little town a bit��� just my favorite spots. Driving alone always thrills me. I can go wherever I want, take as long as I want, look wherever I want, sing however I want, dance however I want��� I can just be me without the care of someone���s impressions.

I passed a school I spent a semester of highscool in and another where I spent two years of middle school. I have only a couple fond memories of each but for some reason would never change those years if I were given the chance. I took the way that passed through our small downtown. I was the only car passing through; all the others were parked along the small shop bordered streets. I peered in Pear Tree South trying to wave hello to Mrs. Kate. Aimee Mann was singing ���I���m a super ball, bounce me once and I���ll ric-a-shay������ and my hands started beating on the steering wheel and my head moved wildly from side to side. I couldn���t help but smile. I love this song. I thought of my friends and then of Kyrie who would laugh nervously at my spastic movements and ���complete lack of rhythm.��� I have rhythm. Kyrie just doesn���t think so.

One of the street lights was changed while I was away at school and no longer flashed yellow but was solid red. I realized I wasn���t stopping because I didn���t understand why it wasn���t flashing. It had flashed for 18 years of my life. To avoid the inevitable collision I swerved and made a legal ���right on red.���

I was almost home now but there were still a few things to see. The woman walking her dog up Hambrooks Boulevard who was pulling out her camera to take a photo of a house she wished was hers. The upside down trashcans along every block that reminded me it was Tuesday. The trash men always come on Tuesday mornings. Mr. Chris and Mrs. Lisa���s house that I looked in, already waving, hoping to see their returning hello. I passed a plot of land, a couple blocks from my home that overlooked the bay, and used to be bare. Kyrie, Chalice and I remember filling its space with our games of tag when mom would take us on walks. A couple years ago, though, they had filled our tag memoris with cookie cutter houses. Driving past I couldn���t see the bay any longer and I had the inevitable nostalgia of wishing it were still only green grass.

I guess it just means, though, that more people are finally discovering the charm and magic of my little town; Cambridge. Maybe these cookie cutter houses are just our way of making room for them to share this place that I���ve taken for granted far too long.

But I can only think of one thing...

I hope they love it as much as I finally do.