Rolling Down Route 1

Juliette, half-an-Earth away in Hanoi, asked me if I were taking part in this year’s month-long Slice of Life Challenge.  I had nearly forgotten, and at first I thought, “No, I’ll be away from home until the evening of March first.”
But then I thought about it, and even if I only manage four posts during the challenge, that’s four more posts than I managed last month, so hey.

As I type this, I’m sitting two seats behind the front door on the right-hand side of an inter-city motorcoach heading southwest through the dusk and the rain.  Out the window, I can still make out the Kennebecasis River meandering its way down to Grand Bay and then out to the Bay of Fundy and eventually the mighty North Atlantic.

March is the month of melting snow, of warming ground, and a completion and beginning of my personal solar laps.

I’m heading home to my husband, one dog, and three cats, after spending a week at the home of my junior high almost-sweetheart, his family, two cats, chickens, roosters, and quail.  Neither one of us live in the same province where we met, in the trenches of a suburban grade seven.

A forty-year friendship, formed under heat and pressure like — and as solid as — the Devonian hills rolling along the horizon.