"Mine eyes do smell an onion."

Sitting in a cafe sipping iced tea while the rain falls outside and the bosa nova plays inside, i stare at the iron railing wondering what city we have landed in, what season we are truly in with 62 degree temperatures, and why I'm wearing a sweater... in August. You can at least tell that it's a week day; the hustle and bustle abounds in droves as rush hour begins. but here, in here, all seems still. i keep my heritage ingrained in me in the middle of this metropolis while sipping an iced tea though I should be sipping something warm... I can't do it right now. I'm still on the Southern schedule where it doesn't get cool until.. November. Thus the confusion.

iced tea in gray gray weather. At least I'm not alone; an elderly couple just walked by dressed for summer. No one told them we were having a "monsoon" all week long. Am I now part of the collective we? Someday. Ha. The woman who chose the seat next to me bought an iced tea. I guess I'm not that strange after all.

I miss my Italian espresso/ gelato shop just around the corner from the office. Marco knew what I ordered though he never knew if I was in a playful "caramel macchiato" mood or a plain-jane-non-fat-latte mood. He and my husband would speak Italian to each other. I actually miss my bank where Lida and Angela knew me so well, when my sister walked in to sign up for account, they actually said, "You must be M's sister." Just by seeing her face. I miss my nieces, one who recently said that instead of going to her new school, she would come stay with me. When she was told how far we live now, she was not moved. She'll just come to us.

I've noticed how many strangers there are here. A couple sat down next to me speaking Norwegian. Some young Spanish kids came in for a respite from the "monsoon". Many are unknown. They too came here not knowing others. A city full of strangers. (and the girl next to me is so loud. There's no way she is a native metropolitan.)

In time. (concentration is lost by the girl's incredibly loud voice.) We'll make home. Carve out a place. Find a new place where we are known (other than the laundromat where the woman scowls at me while she tries to flirt with my husband. I'll knock her out and then maybe, just maybe,(if she'll finally show me respect) we'll be friends.) {that's a joke. i'm not violent at all. and, yes, she did finally stop glaring at me and smiled. happy day.}

Note to self: buy rain boots, umbrella, and rain parka. And don't talk loudly in cafes. Especially about your personal life.