The Southern Cross

While taking a morning drive up to North Portland today I heard Southern Cross on the radio. It felt wonderful to just turn it up and sing out with the windows down. I merged on I-5 and wanted to just keep heading north: out of Portland, out of here, on to somewhere new.

When I was driving to the theater today a fellow driver flagged me down to tell me one of my back tires was flat. I pulled over, hummed and hawwed and (*cringe*) made the decision to drive the rest of the way to work, so as not to be late. I did my pre-set quickly, filled up my water bottle, and went out to go change the flat in the sunshine. It was really soothing to do the physical work, to empty my mind and get my hands dirty. My director arrived as I was putting the jack away and stood there with her mouth open. "Did you just change your tire?" Yep. In less than twenty minutes too, so I could wash up and open house.

It felt good to sing one of my Mom's favorite songs, it felt good to change the tire by myself and be proud that I knew how. Today we close My Children! My Africa! and that feels good too. 

We cheated and we lied and tested./ We never failed to fail, it was the easiest thing to do./ You will survive being bested, / somebody fine will come along/ and make me forget about loving you/ at the Southern Cross.