June 19, 2019: My footpath to the Metro curves along Four Mile Run, which is a shallow, shaded creek leading to the Potomac River. This morning, I glimpsed a chance reflection: a couple taking exercise on the footpath in white tee shirts and one bright red Nationals cap. Because of the bend in the stream and the overhanging trees, I couldn’t see them approach me. But their reflection floated like a lotus flower for just a moment.
June 20, 2019: Tonight, I walked to our local brewpub. I love every word in that sentence. Tonight. Thursday night, the start of my weekend. I. Alone with my thoughts, my pace, my way. Walked. A bit of exercise, along with fresh sights taken from a slower, lower view. To. There, but I’ll get a ride home. Our. The Ogle clan hangs out there every Thursday night. Local. Cool, huh? Brewpub. Beer. Enough said.
June 21, 2019: The summer solstice. Dinner on the patio by candlelight, then a family walk for ice cream. We returned through night-dark Isaac Crossman park, all woods, creek and — on this magical night — hundreds of lightning bugs. It seemed the starry heavens had drifted close to play among trees, twinkling here and there. Not a dazzling Christmas display, just delicate flickering pinpricks inviting wonder.
June 22, 2019: A lusciously cool morning demanded coffee, newspapers and a sun-blessed outdoor breakfast. My house demanded cleaning. Later.
June 23, 2019: At a celebration honoring the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall uprising, I was deeply inspired by the remarks of each panelist, including my church’s wonderful youth minister and Delegate Danica Roem, former front-person of a touring metalhead band, member of Virginia’s House of Delegates, the first trans-woman elected to state office in the country, and Italian-American. After years of internalizing others’ biases about Italian-Americans (my parents’ defensiveness became my own), I’ve finally embraced my heritage.
In full “mom mode,” I approached her afterwards and expressed my pride as one Italian-American woman to another. Her hug warmed me — and prepared me for my next conversation.This was a delight of a different kind, with three recent high school graduates who bubbled joy and authenticity in the safety of knowing and sharing who they are. At this point, I was in full “grandmom mode” in my flowing caftan, silver hair and love-you-forever smile. When they invited me to dance, my delight was complete.
June 24, 2019: With my kids, I’ve recently become hooked on a reality show I will not mention. (“Uh, my interest is confined to the clothes and the cool places they visit.”) Tonight, at the episode’s climax, the protagonist made a dreadful but not entirely surprising choice. Nate and I howled, shrieked and screamed at the screen. And then we did it again and again: Nate had recorded the moment. I’m still laughing about it.
June 25, 2019: Have you ever noticed how tiger lilies, with their arching stems and reaching blooms, seem to embody yearning? Maybe it was just my mood.