I have been awake since 7am. Right now, I’m sitting at Market City enjoying a cup of coffee and some biscuits.
I just got back from South Africa. It is almost surreal to be back after being there, realizing how much I missed my downtown. I missed First Friday and Craig Burkhalter’s exhibit, but I forgive myself because I saw a leopard with its fresh kill. I missed the Writers and Exciters meeting, but I forgive myself because I saw a baby elephant so young, it didn’t know how to use its trunk. I saw sunsets that would take your breath away and the whole galaxy was thrown in the sky for my viewing pleasure.
It was magnificent.
I miss the sunrise, being able to see it clearly with no building in the way and watching the sun make its slow, systematic descent behind the horizon, lighting someone else’s day as it gently lured me to sleep. I miss it, but I enjoyed my walk to Market City this morning, no one around, the breeze playing among the leaves, Radiohead playing in my ears. I am glad there are no angry hippos stalking the streets like the one that staked out the camp, that I don’t require a guide to get to my destination, that I am not food on the hoof if I wanted to jog. I am glad to be back in Macon.
But I miss being there.