Friday, August 31, 2007

In which I write a Pooh sort of entry

( this is a picture of Drew several years ago in one of the trees that are the view from my porch.)
I went to my thinking spot today, and I was plagued by mosquitoes.
There was nothing but bills in the mail.
And to top it off, a lovely gentleman at the park today commented on Jake's "large, hazel eyes." I knew they wouldn't stay blue.


You can't imagine how much better I am, though, at handling such a day than I used to be. First of all, after years of being told how miserable our attitudes can make other people feel, I finally realized that I care - so I try harder. Secondly, the thinking spot is still wonderful. I just caught it at an awkward moment; we all have them. My spot is my front porch, because from there I can see huge tall trees - which remind me of bigger, stronger things than my troubles - and Dave's house which is like a postcard of all that is sweet and wonderful in the world. It's "not a through street" - does that make sense to big city people? Not that any of them are reading this - but that simply means that it's really just one long block and then you have to turn right or left at one of the ends in order to get anywhere else. Well, that's not a simple way of explaining it, but my point is - it's very quiet, almost like a private drive. I feel like the world can't get me there unless they try very hard, and if they're trying that hard, then I probably want to be gotten anyway. It's a lovely street.



And finally, of course, there's the alive thing - in that, I'm glad I am. So I got through the day not just tolerably but still loving my porch and quite sure that the bills will get paid and absolutely certain that Jake's eyes are beautiful no matter what color you call them. And . . . at least it's not a Wednesday.

3 comments:

andrea t said...

I've always thought that street one of the loveliest in Kirksville. I have a weakness for roads lined with tall trees whose branches intertwine to form a sort of green living tunnel of peacefulness.

Matt said...

Well, this is old enough that no one is probably still reading it, but...

One of my favorite parts of Kansas City, where I grew up, is Prairie Village. The homes are older but well-maintained. The streets are winding and often don't go where you'd expect, so traffic is not as bad as on the main roads. Best of all, huge, old trees line the roads and arch over into the kind of tunnel Andrea is talking about. It feels like being in a cathedral or palace, only a warm, green, living one instead of a cold, grey, stone one. Like your street, it feels like the kind of place where an aged fairy godmother might retire, although she is probably still visited by elves and dwarves and all manner of enchanted folk.

serenity said...

Well fortunately I get notified when someone comments so I don't miss wonderful things like this. You know, my beautiful street is sort of made more beautiful by my love for it, but yours sound truly storybook in every way. And I think so many of us could worship better in this kind of cathedral. After all, "the heavens are telling . . . ."