Ten.Four Hundred & Fifty-Two
Up late again because I’ve decided not to use an alarm for a little while. There’s a tiny bit of pain at the back of my throat which means I’m closing in on a cold. I must get as much sleep as I possibly can.
The moon looks full and low and bright against the pale morning sky.
I need to warm my hands. It’s almost time to begin the mornings with fire again.
The deer are back. Both of them. We all stand at the sliding door and watch them. They linger at the back edge there the trees get thick again.
We hop on our bikes for a ride. We’re both colder than we thought we would be. The golden rod and milkweed are getting taller and taller.
There are large pieces of insulation floating in the pond. Who will retrieve it before it poisons the water and the fish and the birds even more? Do they even do ecological surveys around here before they begin to build? The concerns are only ever about property taxes and traffic, never about environmental harm.
We meet at Emerson Creek Tea Room and have a mug of hot tea and eat a bowl of creamy sweet potato soup and a turkey club while the wind blows. The sun is bright and it’s quiet out here.
She drives me home in her little green convertible. And when I walk inside the house I realize just how much I’ll miss her.
I have lots of letters to write.
Two years of this disconnectedness. I need to remember how much I need my people. Not enough time here to recover from the move and then do the work of building relationships. Sometimes too far from the ones I do know best.