Monday, August 19

A day of unwrinkling

Today was a tangled confused day of what to do ~ which would be best, and how to find the energy to make the decision. I hemmed and hawed and finally took Cedar into town to run errands. We got papaya and mango and apples at the grocery store, whole wheat bulk flour and millet at a new dry goods spot, fabric and a wooden train whistle and a staple remover at the thrift store next door, a book from the library and a stop to get my glasses repaired. We were out all afternoon and he didn't nap. Battling a cold, he's full of the cranks and the cries and the squirms. It was an awkward, tired dance of holding him, amusing him in his carseat, feeding him pieces of things while I drove (he's working on his 12th tooth), attemping to wipe his nose when it got out of control, putting him down (barefoot) in stores when I didn't want to and he did, etc. So draining. But one can't stay at home all day every day, can one? I had a great book on cd in the car and a raw kombucha; once he finally fell asleep, I decided to take an unknown road home. I suspected where it went but I figured I'd just wing it if I didn't. The a/c was on, the boy sleeping, the book at a good part ~ and then I looked over and saw the skydivers through a gap in the trees, landing in the field we were driving by. I did a quick turnaround in someone's driveway and went back to watch all six of them land, turning and soaring on the air and rushing down to the earth so fast, till feet met grass. I drove away with a huge smile and a feeling of lightness, remembering my own skydiving experience and that I could do it again if I ever wanted to. Realizing that every tiring event all day, since his first morning sneeze, had led me to this moment of being in the car and looking over on a strange road to see those people fly.

Serendipity. Like tonight when I was struggling to put away all the groceries and I took out the recycling at dusk and saw a little garter snake on the driveway. I touched her and she put her tongue out to sniff me. I picked her gently up, sluggish in the evening's falling temperatures, and admired her silky body and dark striped curves. I took her to the window to show Tim, then placed her in among the ferns on the stone wall.

Serendipity. That thing I see that is magic to my tired soul because I know I could have missed it if I were doing all those things I wished I had been doing instead and which would have taken me away from that encounter which I needed to see. To remember that I'm part of something bigger. That I don't have to have it all planned out. That the world is full of beauty, and some of it is just there for me.