My neighbor is working in his yard and has his radio on full blast and I can't complain because my husband does this too when he is working outside sometimes and my across-the-street neighbor does the same. He listens to NPR and my neighbor is listening to classic rock which is better than say, Rush Limbaugh.
I'm almost quaking today with anxiety and don't even ask me why, I don't know.
Last night I felt peaceful and good and I'm so sick of this and for someone who's never experienced it, it probably sounds so self-involved and petty.
But when you have anxiety, it's like constantly waking up feeling certain you smell smoke and every one of your senses tells you that a vast fire is about to suddenly ignite and although the day is beautiful and your house and home and children and barns and animals are all fine and well, they are undoubtably about to be consumed in flame.
Ugh. I can't write with this brain, with those guitar licks cutting through the air, the ads for personal injury attorneys blasting out.
It's all right. I'm about to go to town soon to meet Lily and Gibson and Magnolia and we're going to have lunch and run some errands and then after Owen is picked up, we are coming back here to watch the Amtrak train go by. This is a big thing and the train is stopping in Tallahassee- they are trying to restore an Amtrak route here and maybe if we wave, the passengers will wave back. Who knows? But wouldn't that be nice?
What will the people think when they go through Lloyd? Will they see my chicken coop, my old house, the ancient, spreading oak trees, two women and two little boys and a babe in arms, all of us waving hello-hello-good-bye-good-bye! and then they'll pass the old Lloyd train station where I get my mail and fly down the tracks headed east and will they wonder about what life is like here? Will they feel as if they have not just traveled through space but back through time?
They couldn't have picked a prettier day.
No. I do not smell smoke. I do not. All is well and all will be well and anxiety lies and so I breathe in, breathe out, taking in the cool clean air of Lloyd which is lovely, except for that dratted noise.
The train will drown it out. For a few moments, at least, and oh, how we will wave!
Here we are. Do you see us?
Here we are. I swear.