On my walk this morning, I noticed so many more people than usual on the trail. Quite a few families, in fact, on bicycles or pushing strollers or playing near the creek. It took me a minute to realize - it's spring break week here - students are out of school, teachers have a much-deserved week to themselves. I'm so glad that the rain has let up for a day or two, and everyone can enjoy the sunshine and mild temps. Oh, how I loved April break! Truly, the end of this school year is in sight; those last weeks seem to fly by upon return.
We've been gardening and squabbling here. Sometimes, when I look out at the yard, all I see is what it needs - not what it has. Our yard needs a lot. Something. Focus. Love? It gets plenty of love; it has my husband - and yard work to him is what writing is to me - he piddles and dreams and puts things here, there and rethinks and wanders and tries again. I can't stand the 'in-between process' of the garden - I want it to look like a page from a gardening catalogue. I'm impatient. Thus the squabbling - totally started and stoked by me:
Me - Why did you move all the pavers from under the fire pit? I just did those last fall!
Him - Well, I noticed they weren't level. So I'm making the pad level.
Me - Oh, nobody noticed!
Him - I did. I'm fixing it. You don't have to worry about it; I've got it.
Me - Well it looks messy.
Him - Because it's in process.
Me - Why do we even have that darn firepit? I hate that you keep it covered in the old brown tarp. It looks messy.
Him - You bought it for my birthday a few years back, remember, hon? It doesn't have a cover and we don't want it to rust. We've had fun with it.
(This man is too nice for a cranky wife like me.)
I heard the ugly in me. I wandered away and start pulling weeds nearby; I even mulched a part of the yard, soothing this insatiable need to 'complete' something, to have a finished task.
It just feels like everything everything everything is up in the air, confusing, mixed up. We are in such a state of 'in-between'...we are a matter of weeks away from the start of a major home remodeling (contractor is in midst of securing permits) and inside the house is just a flurry of movement - emptying, culling, shifting, preparing. It feels as if everything I go to touch leads down some new rabbit hole, revealing something more, something unexpected, to do.
Then there is the larger world, which is off its axis. I can hardly bear to hear or read news - which makes me feel doubly bad, to be privileged enough to take it in small, manageable doses.
It helps to write.
For some, it helps to garden.
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It's Tuesday and I am participating in the
Slice of Life.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!
