The other day I sat reading a book and paused, thinking it must be time to start preparing dinner. I reached into a small basket on my desk for a bookmark and came up empty-handed.
Last June I spent a week in New York City. I bought a postcard at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and sent it to my friend Yelena in Russia, June 26, 2021. I love mailing postcards when I travel.
A few months ago, severe abdominal pain and sudden weight loss had me at the doctor’s office for a CT scan. The scan revealed a large mass had taken up residence in my abdomen. How long had it been there, and what did this interloper represent?
This weekend, a good friend accompanied me on my daily walk. We chatted, enjoying the sunshine and spring’s unfolding. Each time I walk this trail, there’s something new to see. Walking with my friend made that more apparent as he pointed out sites I’d never noticed.
I keep mulling over in my mind a couple of relationships that have become strained. I started to write difficult, but strained is a better descriptor. What has changed? Have I changed? And why am I continuing to agonize over them?
This morning I went to write and found the ink in my fountain pen had dried up. I unscrewed the nib, washed it all, and replaced the cartridge. It had been a week since I’d written anything.
Life is complicated and solutions are more complex than we know. Every being on planet Earth has a vision of life shaded by their life experiences, culture, and an environment unique to them. My vision of humanity imagines each individual living in a high-rise apartment that extends for thousands of miles.
Whether they are cats, dogs, hamsters, or horses, animals are family. Sometimes they are better at relating to us than some of our human family members.
“I’ve listened to your conversations at breakfast for three days. You never talk over each other. Amazing!” Our third day in Porto, Portugal, prior to our Camino walk, a fellow pilgrim who’d stayed at our hotel approached us as we began the Camino to share her observation.