The sidewalks with the mockingbirds chortling on power wires over head, the deep magenta crepe myrtles drooping on rain-heavy stems, sunshine drying up the rain puddles except in the deepest sidewalk cracks, and me walking like I know where I’m going — because I do — so that people recognize it and ask directions of me. I like having people ask directions.
I used to have a seat on a short flight of brick steps beside a planter where there were sometimes pansies, sometimes petunias, sometimes banana trees. Passing people recognized it, said they’d have to put a plaque there when I was gone. Other people sit there now, I’m sure, though I’m not there to see them.
The path around the pond, with the trees leaning in overhead, the dirt riddled with armadillo excavations, and me waving a stick up and down ahead of me to catch the spiders’ webs before they catch me, deep shade and then deeper sunshine across the field, where insects hang in the air and the only things in motion are buzzards riding updrafts high overhead.
The left-side cushion of the “little couch,” dead center on the piano bench, that corner table in the coffee-shop, the bar-stool beside the wall in our kitchen, the front of a classroom, back to the board, facing the students.
And in the center, sometimes, of this group or that, people with whom I laugh, people whom I love: times when I can forget who I am, whom I’m supposed to be, and just exist for the joy of it, belonging.
Father, thank You.
Joining Lisa-Jo Baker’s Five Minute Friday today, expect today it is being hosted by Crystal Stine. Click on the image above to go there.
©2014 by Stacy Nott