I hear geese flying overhead and think of flamingos. They sound alike.
I find myself wondering about street junk I see on my walks (Did someone rip out those hair extensions herself, or was there some fight with another girl? How did a pair of men's boxers end up in the middle of an intersection?), and the thoughts carry me to the beach, where odd things wash up now and then, also raising questions.
The power goes off for no apparent reason, and I think "PPC" just as often as "Dominion." (Actually, the island power company is now called Fortis, but no one is yet used to the name.)
Living so close to the Slave Trail, Lumpkin's Jail and the site of Gabriel's hanging, I reflect often on Richmond's history as a center of slave trade. And those reflections lead me just as often to the plantation ruins on North and Middle Caicos, where American Loyalists brought their slaves and then abandoned them when the crops failed.
The slave connection between my two homes has intrigued me so much that it's become a foundation for the novel I am currently writing. The coming-of-age story features a female protagonist who is from the islands but now lives in Shockoe Bottom and studies in the pharmacy program at Virginia Commonwealth University. She, too, goes back and forth between the two places (both physically and mentally), making connections and feeling the ghosts of slavery in a much more personal way.
Right now I'm calling it "Here and There," but the title will probably change. It is a work in progress.
As we all are.