Act II. Scene 2 - War Games

About a week ago, I was walking home, keeping one eye on the bull in the field along the rocky road to my apartment. And off in the distance I heard the pounding of the waves. I'd heard and seen it before, last December, just before the gates were opened on our third trial. But it sounded more pointed this time, echoing through the night, and the moist air. Since then, it's been raining pretty steadily, so I haven't had much of a reason to venture down by the sand - expecting more of an uneasy sight than I would care for. But today, as a break from reviewing the Renin-Angiotensin-Aldosterone system, I strolled down to the beach. And as I walked along, eating an orange, over expansive piles of small, smooth rocks, and looked out at a calm, lapping bay, I stopped everything in my head. It felt right.

Luckily I brought along my umbrella in my back pocket, and the rain knew, and greeted me just as I turned to walk back. We called it a draw.

But this is just a temporary distraction.

The strategies start being drawn up as soon as I walk back through the door. I count days, review blocks, run scenarios in my head. I go about making dinner, and showering, drawing pictures on an imaginary dry-erase board, and planning it all out. There's two weeks left in this campaign, and it's a battle I must win.

Certainly there will be a battle after that one. One I will gladfully engage with all my heart. But for now determination settles about the intelligence, and makes itself at home.