I Stop Somewhere Waiting For You

Tuesday, 10/15/24

If I had known has been a common phrase in my mind for over a month now. If I had known what would happen after the COVID vaccine. If I had known that I did not need to worry about this or that, etc. Not long ago as we were pulling into a parking spot at a hotel, I said to Brian If you told me this morning that I’d end up visiting a hotel this evening, I would have been very confused. Sometimes the day changes but the events are stagnant. Awaken, commute, work, commute, do routines at home, go to bed. Add a dash of this or that hobby or a walk and that’s a day.

If I had known that my 80-year-old friend would get hit by a car…

If I had known that I would spend time in the hospital today…

If I had known that a routine time with a friend would turn into me coming home with her dog…

Yet I witnessed some moving, beautiful things today. I met a woman who is struggling with her own issues but whose heart was in the right place when it came to someone else’s needs. I witnessed a gorgeous meditation led by another friend. I witnessed my injured friend’s calmness and reason in such a stressful time. I witnessed women coming together with love and compassion in a time of need. Later in the day, I met a poet who I admire. We talked for a little bit. I listened to him read his poems. I talked to a couple other people new to me without feeling out of place and awkward.

My friend is doing well and despite being hit by a car, went home with only bumps and bruises.

Wednesday, 10/16/24

I want to rid my brain of so many things and ferment it in other things.

That’s living and life, right?

Thursday, 10/17/24

Thursdays are a no-man’s land for me, which is okay. Wednesdays are my first day back to work for the week. Thursday just is what it is. Friday feels like Friday because it’s my husband’s Friday and it’s the day before my Friday. Saturday is my Friday. Sundays, Mondays, and Tuesdays are all mine. I don’t usually get a case of “The Mondays” because I am refreshed and always amazed that wow, I still have another day off to do as I please.

Friday, 10/18/24

Speaking of no-man’s land, I feel like a no-man’s land. I know this isn’t true and it will pass but knowing is very different from feeling. I feel nothing bursting from me right now. I feel nothing fermenting. I am walking through my days, staring at my nails, it feels. Digging nothing out from under them. I’ve been reading the same book for an eternity. Even though it’s interesting, it’s an eternity. I look back at my week and think what have I done? Why are my hands empty?

Saturday, 10/19/24

Men severely disappointed me today (not Brian). I don’t get disappointed easily because I know to expect things that aren’t glimmering.

Women, however, filled me full of love. Women glimmered for me today with their love, compassion, and intelligence. I hugged my mother and mother-in-law at the same time today and it was the best part of the day besides the gorgeous weather, the fact that I won at Phase 10, my sweet husband, and a house full of dogs.

Sunday, 10/20/24

Another hug with my women, another gorgeous day.

Monday, 10/21/24

I hiked up a hollow today with my dog Silas. I showed him all the blues and yellows that I could. Such a short, wild, and lovely life he is living. I hope. That dark, rosy nose that navigates the dramas of the forest. Those floppy ears that perk up in alertness. Those crooked bottom teeth. That wave of pink hanging from his mouth. Those eyes and concerned eyebrows that discern the world and his place in it with what I believe is an immense, soft intelligence. He senses his way through the world on heavily-licked paws and a paintbrush tail that paints the world in a golden wash. Tall grass runs through his chest hair. Those paws have been on sand, in water, on limestone, gravel, boulders, pebbles, grass, dirt, mud, ice, moss, dead leaves, humus, my feet, my chest, my shoulders, my head, cement, asphalt, carpet, wood, bark, logs, and even on a snake! At the end of the day when he sprawls across the floor and I massage him, I know that life is so good. For him. For me. When he gallops ahead of me on the trail, chasing whatever hues or brightness that calls to him, I know that life is good. He always stops, though, and looks back at me until I catch up. I will gladly spend the rest of my life catching up to him.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,

Missing me one place search another,

I stop somewhere waiting for you.

-The end of Whitman’s “Song of Myself”