beadslut (beadslut) wrote,

it's the journey

Saturday's story

I was at the airport at about 12:20 yesterday and to dad's by 5:30. Would have been closer to 5, but apparently the CTA chose to welcome me home by doing something between Jefferson Park and Montrose on the blue line, and then I instictively got on the first bus at Belmot, so ended up west bound on Belmont, instead of Northbound on Kimball. It was, thankfully, no problem to get off and take Pulaski north.

It made the trip more personal, it's the same route I used to take to high school, back when we buried the dinosaurs. So many things are gone, or changed, but the city is still the same. There's a giant police station at Wilson, stores everywhere that didn't have them before, and a wedding reception was set up in the parking lot of an apartment building.

Need to figure out if I buy more time on my CTA card or just buy another card.

There was a woman on the bus with a baby, and I am reminded how sedentary amd slothful suburban life has made me. I used to do that, take the bus everywhere, wrangle diaper bags and baby, sometimes stroller, and never gave it a moment's thought. I kept thinking yesterday that the baby was touching everything and then shoving his fists in his mouth, and disease! sickness! plague! Probably has an amazing immune system.

Great to see Dad, and so far it's all good, he seems fine, except for the vision, he really can't read, see the contrast between the paper and the print. Follow up visit to eye doctor on Monday.

In the meantime, watching all the pretty that is the Olympics. Athletes in their prime are amazing and attractive specimens. The goalie for The Netherlands soccer team comes immediately to mind.

More as it happens
Tags: dad
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