I saw a drug deal the other day.

I saw a drug deal on a corner near my school the other day.

This is what happened:
On a corner in front of a liquor store with a plyboard sign a stooped shoulder man, who looked old but was probably not more than 40, stood with his hand slightly inside his tan jacket. I believe he had a mustache. He wore a baseball cap. He stood facing the street, not exactly at the corner, and not as one who was looking to cross. He stood stiffly in an awkward place on the corner. Across the street came a young man, probably not more than 20, who walked purposefully and did not look nervous. I saw the old man draw a wad of bills from inside his jacket, just barely saw it, before his hand concealed it again.

As the young man got closer, the old man seemed to grow more anxious. It seemed like his muscles tensed up, that he grew more intent in the way he stood. The young man did not go directly to him, but to the side as if he did not see the old man at all, and then he stepped behind him and said something. The old man kept facing forward, and only inclined his head a little to the young man. I saw him draw out his hand, I saw the young man step slightly in front of him, so that whatever was to happen was shielded by their bodies.

Then the traffic light changed to green. I drove forward and did not see the end of the deal. Did not watch the young man return to his post, probably across the street, did not watch the old man walk off with his purchase. All of that happened in the cycle of a traffic light, and it was completely mundane. Business as usual, another day in Baltimore.

There’s a thousand and one (that’s a precise number) things I should be doing. The vast majority are things for school, a smaller portion are assignments for certification courses and the smallest bit is things like laundry and cleaning.

But right now it seems important to write. Simply.

***

The old woman’s short hair white gray stood up from her head. Her face was close to the bone, as old people’s are and her lips thin as old people’s are and she looked as though she was shrinking as old people do. These were not unpleasant things. She simply looked as a woman looks who is old, and so light that she might float out of her chair were it not for the burdensome winter clothes she wore.
She smiled through the concert. Her thin lips pulled up, and her eyes twinkly. She brought her hands together as the small child claps, hands meeting as mirror images of one another. She was joy as the chorus sang, moved, clapped, shouted as the orchestra zinged, bowed, plucked, as the winds blew, growled, barked. She was joy when the man sang that every valley shall be exalted, and joy when unto her the child was born and joy when her redeemer liveth and joy when we all jived through the hallelujahs.
She beamed that joy around her, and she clapped like a child. In the music we were all holy for a moment here in Baltimore.

***

I’m counting the days till I’m GTT. It stands at 12 and a wake up.

Overheard...
Earlier this week, at a class all of us TFA folk have to take, one of our corps members said something that I think sums up what many of us are feeling...

"I'm not going to quit, but everyday I don't want to be here."

It may sound whiny, and it is certainly easy to criticize. But it's an unwitting place to be, made more strange by sharing it with other corps members slogging through their first year of teaching.

Everyday. Everyday. But we go in.

Even if we're praying for snow days.

Come on snow, come on.

And the moon’s hanging low in the sky.

I drove into the city this morning watching a yellow moon float above it all. An early morning, a sleeping city, a bright moon and me heading away from some one I love. Again.

I hope it’s a pattern that changes soon.

I drove home after dark, watching a bright moon again hang over this city. I didn’t think, but I sang. Sometimes it’s the same thing.

B-more with Blythe
She came in. After one letter full of stories, Blythe was here.
-Late night Italian food.
-Streets filled with drunken Santas
-One aquarium, one simple anemone.
-One jaunt to Mr. Poe’s tomb.
-One afternoon of made up songs and stories.
- A big moon this morning.