Crumbs From the Corner: Adventures in Woolgathering

Thursday, August 13, 2009


Late afternoon in August we wedged our persons into one corner of an empty train carriage, wrapped arms around enormous articles of luggage. We slid from the railway station and watched, deliberately, as the town began to melt from our sight.
Not for us the anxious question of the front door having been locked, nor the fretful uncertainty of whether appliances had been properly unplugged. In all the world we could lay claim to no door. Our belongings had been thoroughly detached from their respective electrical sockets, bound, as were Spouse and I, thousands of miles westward.
With no fixed abode and nothing certain before us, we allowed the town to dwindle corner by corner, retreating from the familiar streets amid a painter's palette of thoughts and whirlwind possibilities.
Two weathered fellows soon made themselves comfortable in our compartment. They bore the dismayed, tangled hair of the homeless- still, who were we to remark on such things?- and threadbare, grubby vests through which peeked vast expanses of haggard skin.
I imagined we gave the impression of being on vacation; but our fellow travellers understood, inexplicably, that we were going far and would not return. A spirited conversation blossomed.
"You're doing a great thing. I bet," one neighbour jabbed a finger at us, "I bet you're making the best decision you ever made." His eyes were alight with the thrill of it all, and he sounded convinced of the words.
His companion nodded, and slurped from a paper cup. "I couldn't do what you're doing. Never. You guys have got bananas."
"Bananas," the first echoed soundly. "Yup. Plenty of bananas."
Over and over the raggedy companions assured us of our boldness, and of the rightness of our boldness, and that we were in possession of a healthy supply of bananas.
Our paths at last had to diverge. Shouts of good luck and take care and scraps of advice tumbled with us onto the platform as we hauled the burdensome bags to the next segment of our adventure.
With the fervent well-wishes of strangers, and the proverbial bananas- a dash of courage enough to set out on some railway tracks and leave the known world behind- with these our journey could begin in earnest.


Beth said...

welcome! We've missed you and yes, you have more bananas than anyone I've ever met. I hope that all is well in your new spot.

Pappy said...

Forty bananas will get you out of debt. New adventures = New stories. Sounds like it started in true The and Spouse fashion. I will be anxious to read the New Adventures of Spouse and The in the coming weeks. Thanks for coming by. Pappy

paulmerrill said...

Glad you're back to blogging. Your voice is SO refreshing.

julochka said...

can't wait to see whether you bake banana bread or make a banana splits with your bananas. mmmm, there's probably enough to do both.


Pauline said...

aha! you're somewhere new now and I'm looking forward to reading all about it. I've missed your posts!

Phyllis Hunt McGowan said...

Beth, thank you, thank you :) we miss you, and we miss Maine, beautiful Maine.

Texican, oh, so many stories. It's always that way wherever we go :)

Paul, thanks- I need good words to get me going again!

Julie, thanks for coming by. I sure hope there's enough!

Pauline, yes, now I've left behind your side of the country, adopted another side for my own, and I hope to get some stories going again!

Morning's Minion said...

Your posts always leave me wanting the "rest of the story"--glad you're back online.

Phyllis Hunt McGowan said...

Morning's Minion, there'll be lots more stories once I get a bit more settled :) We only got internet properly last night, before that it was a bit wobbly, but everything should be okay now!

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