“The arc of my day unfolded in simple chapters: a trip to town, a quick walk up to the washed out culvert, countless mental miles, and a few emotional ones. How hard could it be - to mail well-packaged cookies, after a white lie to the post mistress “nothing perishable” ... well, after all, sugar is immortal I think. I drove a few extra miles to a gas station to get beer. Which is never a great thing to buy before noon. There are humiliations you become willing to put up with, when your road is nearing impassable due to mud. I was just thinking ahead. My week was requiring some new rules. I put the Cabot butter on top of the beer, so it looked more like groceries, and still, the young cashier was tickled. She made a big fuss. “That’s quite a combo!” she said. As if on cue, I went with her forthrightness. “Yes,” I said. “Cookie baking and drinking”. I left it at that, even though I’d already made the cookies. I could rationalize to myself that I was looking forward to drinking eventually, especially as road conditions deteriorated . She got a kick out of me, whatever she thought was going on. It’s just like when you write, you want to leave a few things to the imagination. She deserved that, working hard like she was, dealing with weird people all day, people who maybe looked past her, because she didn’t mean much in the moment. To them. I cruised slowly home, following the river road, more than a little captivated by the melt. Until an out-of-state plate began to tailgate me. I use such zen moments wisely, and assume I’m gaining enlightenment, every time I ace any type of harassment. We drove on at or a little above the speed limit, a tandem dance of nonchalance & impatience, coming into some kind of awkward harmony. I felt that same kind of incredible gratitude for restriction later in the day, while pushing a magnetic nail collector, across my uneven driveway. I felt it while aggregating plywood scraps, away from the burn pile. I felt it, as I plunged a garden fork under a huge piece of buried foam insulation, that had formerly been part of an attached greenhouse. This is not really the glamorous side of anyone’s day. It’s just the work-a-day puttering, of a person. I stopped for a second cup of coffee, and ate the cookies that were left, and then thought maybe I should go for a long walk. Instead, I dug into my emails, and responded to people asking me for things. The cats wanted stuff too, in and out, in and out, and food. I had a wonderful visit with one neighbor, and saw another walking on the road, at twilight. And when i was picking out this photo for my post, and examining it for what might be special about it, I realized it was looking up towards the physical spot where two of my children were born at home. I often drive by the place and glance at the mountain, and look at a horse that stands around there, on its fence line. Since moving back here, I’ve given myself permission to ease into place. To not run back to where I’d left things. To reinvent myself, which has actually, not been a choice. The intervening years completely changed the world, let’s be real. I used to be personally affronted by ignorance. Now I sort of count on it, look forward to it, and feel uplifted by it. It helps remind me who I am, and who I aspire to be.”
