Monday morning and I have darts of anxiety striking me like tiny acupuncture needles sent directly to the points most likely to release the vein-rivers of worry directly into my bloodstream, fuck. I hate that.
Well, what are you going do?
It suddenly strikes (haha!) me that perhaps I am a person so afraid of change and what-might-come that even getting up on a new day is enough to make me slightly crazed, has more to do with my morning despair than anything. How sad and ridiculous is that?
I took a good hard walk, striking (I love that word today, obviously) the ground with my feet, hard, the way I do, the sand on the woods-trail more packed today, more dense, from last night's rain. The little drainage pond I pass is almost dry, Lloyd Creek is barely a trickle and I remember a few years ago when we got that huge storm and the railroad tracks were covered by it and no trains could run.
Everything does change, every day, every second, month, year. I think of all the things we've done, experienced, felt, seen since we moved here seven years ago.
So lah. I need to take a shower, cool down, make Mr. Moon's snack bag as he is going to auction tonight, get to town, do a little birthday shopping for him- his birthday is Wednesday- go be with Owen for a few hours, come home, go to Monticello.
There. The day laid out before me, a blue-print, an outline, a plan.
I think it is best, some days, to just plow forward, step, step, step, keep moving, keep going, not taking too much time to stop and smell the roses because on those certain days, if you do, odds are good that a bee will merely climb up your nose. I spend plenty of time smelling the roses, the four-o-clocks, the phlox, the magnolias and mulling about the meaning of everything.
Today I am going to try to just walk strongly through the miles I need to go before I sleep, thank-you, Robert Frost, and let the world take care of itself and I will know that despite my inattention, all will be as it should, or at the very least, as it will.