And How Are You?

Rather than the blush of dawn, daybreak today briefly infused our bedroom with an orange glow. The windows were open, and the air felt heavy, and I decided to walk to the mailbox before it got too hot, just as an excuse to step outdoors. The macadamia orchard was lush with redolent pink blossoms, emanating a distinctive aroma that is somehow intimate and intrusive–almost overwhelming–but butterflies, bees, and hummingbirds flitted about, having a field day.

Stolid black cows were moving in slow motion, if at all, and the canyon was of a muted palette, the ground ashy-gray, the hills bleached almost beige, and the sky no longer glowing, but growing dull and flat instead. All mornings have a kind of beauty, but this one leaned toward plain. Still, I was happy to be out before the inevitable heat.

In terms of “the news”, I’m exhausted, as we all are, and I yearn for the time when we don’t have to live like this. Absolute hubris, complete disregard for others, constant lies and obfuscation…and now this despicable man is getting VIP medical treatment (quite a bang for his $750). Let him get better, lose the election, and be held accountable. Prison would be nice, for him and the rest of them, and the stigma of shame, if they had any. The harm done is staggering, some of it irreparable. This is not what I want to talk about or think about, but it’s in the air…even harder to ignore than the macadamia blossoms.

But, God, won’t it be wonderful when we no longer have to wake up to this chaos and dysfunction? Is it possible we are seeing the beginning of the end of this reality tv show gone awry?

Let me tell you instead about my grandson. I zoomed in as close as I could to his sweet little cherub face in the course of our last visit. I didn’t know what to say, but I sang him “Magic Penny” a song by Malvina Reynolds that I used to sing to my daughter. I wish there were some magic to transport me there, but I think we’re making connection. One of these days, I will hold him on my lap.

In the meantime, I am so filled with emotion, I don’t even know what to do with it.

“This is why people drink,” says my dear friend Diane.

How are you?