And I Thought Nothing Happened

I made the mistake this week of writing nothing down, and now it seems as though nothing much happened, which surely isn't true. Ah, I am blank without my journal. I do know I had a curious dream so weird that I was loathe to leave it in the morning, but of course I have forgotten it, and I am certain I had a couple of clever thoughts and profound insights, but they, too, have fled.

Fortunately, a handful of bright memories remain, and I will share two or three with you before we get to the poem. First, there was a Sunday walk in which Jeanne, Margaret, and I had an encounter with that bull I told you about previously. At one point we scrambled up a hill to avoid him, giggling absurdly despite our fear. You had to see us, Margaret in her orange shoes, Jeanne pulling two large dogs on leashes, the bull mooning and moaning and trudging steadily towards us. I have come to the conclusion that he's lonesome. In fact, he reminded Jeanne of another local male who used to appear now and then to make his urges known.

A small thing, but special to me: there was a thank you note in the mail from a 12-year-old girl named Grace, in her young-girl handwriting and her young-girl voice. I am charmed beyond reason by notes like this, and I know there's a conscientious mom behind it, instructing etiquette, but it seemed so earnest and diligent, with all the clarity of a little light. Grace thanked me especially for the poetry books I sent, which she looks forward to really reading... and all I could think of was that her note was a poem. (Come to think of it, Grace is having her Bat Mitzvah ceremony today, and that's pretty awesome.)

Another fine moment: while Monte and I were riding our bicycles yesterday, it began to hail...serious hail, pelting our helmets, stinging our faces, sticking to the ground. But the air was so crisp, the treetops so green and leafy, the clouds so utterly cinematic, that the advent of hail was nothing but invigorating, and as we pedaled along, we caught a whiff of cilantro growing, and its aroma seemed fresh and exhilarating, and though wet and windblown, I felt truly alive...and happy. I admit it helped that we did not have much further to go, but it seems to me this was the highlight of the week.

Today: friends, cupcakes, a dog named Scout...

So I'll leave the week, distilled down to that, and let it be a lesson to me: either jot it down or lose it.