mlle. h. bean

This is the three-month anniversary of my leaving home. The morning that I left is so clear in my mind, sunny and crisp like October is, and in my mind of course the rest of the days that followed are there, unconscious ghosts, bookending the day. But that morning there was so much unknown. And not just in the sense that the days ahead hadn't happened yet, but in the sense that I had no idea how much of an idea I didn't have about what was going to happen.

These days have been really rainy, really warm, the mountain apparently has rain at the top...and as I drive the kids to school in the big black SUV I feel guilt, tangible, real, in the pit of my stomach. There is such an obvious connection between us humans and global warming patterns. And there I am openly flaunting all that I believe in order to do a job, or in the case of recycling, or not, just because it's easier just to throw it away. And you think, well, it's just me, but there are a billion just-me's.

We're still here, though. We've still got a chance.