until the next time

 

December 3 • 2023

All I'm saying is, it's easy to tumble.

I got up this morning and let Daisy out. Daisy was up twice in the night, pining (whining) to go out on the patio. Then bark. I brush my teeth, splash cold water on my face, put the kettle on. Then comes the habitual glance at the phone. Someone has sent me a message on Instagram which leads to seeing another friend's post of a trip to Tuscany with her handsome guy, and a scroll through her post (slides 1 - 5) ~ a church, cobbled streets, balconies, ancient doorways, the two of them clearly in love. 

Back to the kitchen to make tea, I step in something sticky and that's when things take a turn into a parallel plot line to If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, how one thing leads to another, except there's no cookie.

Wiping the  sticky off the bottom of my bare foot, the tumble happens, fast ~

Well, this is disgusting • why did the landlord choose this tile • why is the dog limping all of a sudden • will I ever get to Italy • why can't I...

then comes a loud knock on the door, not once but multiple times. Daisy is barking and I see, I know, it's Linda, our elderly neighbor, on the slippery slope of dementia, eyes wide, wearing a winter hat, sweatpants, slippers. I open the door and Linda leans in:

Can you please take me to Gelson's? I'm desperate! I have no food in my house.

This is not true. Linda's fridge and freezer are packed, cupboards stuffed with canned goods and boxes of things. I know this because I have taken her to Gelson's. She doesn't believe me when I remind her of this.

 I'm not taking you to Gelson's right now, Linda, it's eight o'clock and...

Linda is a story for another day. Linda is a short story, a novella, a full-length play. She's knocked on my door many times but today, her appearance shoves me down the rabbit hole of how strange and sticky life can be. 

Linda goes home.

After my tea, I walk the dog. Chat with a young woman and her baby brother in a stroller. I see tiny birds, tucked inside the slender branches of a birch tree with small golden leaves. Back home, the branches of the lemon tree hang heavy. The bright yellow fruit bigger this season after all the good rain we had last winter and spring. 

In the shower, I wash the stickiness off until the next time I step in it.

♥️ b

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