down the river

So my friend Dave rolls out to West Virginia tomorrow morning, to begin his new job. He came over for dinner last night, banana pancakes, deer sausage, and some crispy crowns. It feels sort of odd to say goodbye but necessary too. I got him Ed Abbey's collection of essays, "Down the River." And in some ways that feels like a pretty decent metaphor for friendships these days--that they're part of the current, never quite the same, always moving and shifting. Sometimes our lives get pooled up together--we have the opportunity to enjoy friendships in relative peacefulness--and sometimes we ride the rapids together, through the turbulent times. And sometimes we get separated, pushed back into isolation around this island or diverted into some canal. 'Goodbye' seems like a funny thing to say, because we're still riding the same river, and our paths will cross again.

In other, less reflective news, I like breakfast for dinner. Pancakes, waffles, french toast: all make for perfectly satisfying dinners. I draw the line at oatmeal, though. Oatmeal is a breakfast for the dawning of the day, a meal of both gravity and potential.

Thoreau: "Morning is when I am awake and there is a Dawn in me."