March 19: A stream of us wove around and about as smoothly as marbles on a curvy track. Moving briskly through each checkpoint, I eventually arrived in a lovely room with ceiling-height windows overlooking woods and paths. Cheerful volunteers swayed to “My Girl” by the Four Tops and 33 stations waited in rows and columns, like marigolds in a sunny garden. Barely a pinch (that’s it?) and then Sly and the Family Stone escorted me out: “Dance to the Music.” Yes we will, together, soon.
March 20: Toting my big “go” bag with pads and blankets, I walked with Jeremiah into town for lunch. We found a sunny table and lingered. From there we wandered: to an antique shop and the game store, bypassing ice cream, whisky and beer (“No, Mom”). We also lingered over ribbons of civil rights history embedded in the sidewalk of our town’s historic Black neighborhood. Returning footsore and weary, we agreed to do it again (but without the heavy ketchup bottle tucked in the bag!).
March 21: I had catching up to do, and I knew just the friend to call: A walk? “Sure!” A beer? “Most definitely.”
March 22: From my “office” window, I watched Jeremiah walk to his car with our “go” bag. And then I checked my text: Trivia Night was back at our favorite burger joint. The night was mild, the parking lot offered widely spaced tables, and the questions (and groans) flew. We had played our last game exactly one year ago. Tonight, our best right answer was saying yes, let’s start a new year.
p.s. This is the first line of what song? “Where it began, I can’t begin to knowing.” [Answer below; I’m still wincing!]
March 23: Touching fingertip to blacktop with the opposite leg kicking back, about two dozen masked tenth graders rimmed the perimeter of our neighborhood basketball court. Led by two adults in the center, they rolled their necks and sank into lunges. I walked past and up the wooded hill. Turning back I saw them disperse. Early morning cross country? Whatever it was, I savored my luck to catch the moment. When they jogged past me fifteen minutes later, I felt like we were on the same team.
March 24: Sometimes (ok, a lot of times), I’ll listen to a podcast as I fall asleep. Tucked in and cozy, I thought perhaps this is the adult version of when I was a child, enthralled by A.A. Milne until, eyes drooping, I had to leave Christopher Robin to play with Winnie the Pooh without me.
March 25: I watched the sparrows and cardinals dart in and out of the enormous shrub out front. Almost impenetrable on all sides, the shrub throws open a sizable “front door” near our path, and through it birds come and go all day. Yesterday, rain fell in buckets, and I saw no birds. I smile now to think of them all gathered together in their dry bird apartment building, protected and perhaps at rest.
Trivia Answer: “Sweet Caroline,” by Neil Diamond
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