You ever had that experience where you’re looking right at something and yet you miss what’s right in front of your face? 

Tonight I made a crazy jumble of fresh ingredients into a colorful stir-fry. The main color of which was green from this fresh spinach leaves that I’ve added at the last moment. But when I tried to describe the dish to my children I mentioned everything except for the spinach. But there it was adding life to the quinoa and mushrooms and onion bits in my bowl.

It’s funny how we can just overlook the most apparent of details. Like maybe the fact that your dad is kind of a narcissist, maybe your mom is on the spectrum? Or maybe that your husband of 26 years doesn’t actually love you the way that you want and deserve to be loved. That its all been staring you right in the face your whole life, but you didn’t see it. Not until you were ready to.

I guess that’s the point right? To try to exist everyday in a state where your eyes are open, and your ears are open, and all of the senses that can pass by you don’t go missed.

Walking along the river tonight I noticed a woman staring up into a tree, I couldn’t see what she was seeing, but I could hear it. A bird, a small bird, it sounded like, saying, “Cheery, cheery, cheery.” I didn’t feel compelled to look it up, to learn what species was regaling us down here on earth. I just listened for a second as I walked past, and noted that somewhere 30 or 40 ft above my head, there was a creature reminding me that happiness is where I find it.

And where I find it is where I remember to look and to listen and to smell and to feel. Oh, and definitely to taste. That might be the most important one, for the satisfaction that it brings.  

Umbilical cord around my neck, my first moments were full of fight. Surprising for a girl who relished gentleness, and whose best friend, a Collie dog. As kids, we drank cold hose water in the summertime and dunked our heads for cherries. The one with the most, wins. A lilac bush permeated the front yard with its sweet purple scent, masking the truth of things. Inside, sink dishes waited patiently for soap; the cleansing of their conscience from involuntarily witnessing shouting and unmet needs. From the living room measures of Beethoven boomed, accented by our mother’s curses. Her fingers, frustratingly disobedient to the sheet music. We three grew up, despite the inattention. Aware, and purposeful. Proudly providing our own children blueberry pancakes on Sundays. 

Oh the irony 

Frantically eating a chocolate bar needing the sugar to hit my bloodstream 

While, intensely, I study the left hand of a favorite songwriter

Singing in a red knit cap

During the pandemic 

Have patience 

I need this song in my hands as fast as possible 

I cannot wait

I cannot wait because the same madman who terrified the fuck out of us 6 years ago with virus that kills, today helps the entire world hostage as he gleefully tyiee out his desire to end an entire civilization with the push of the button 

I have no more time to learn this song. I need to play it NOW.

And this, as we spin around in circles on this little globe in the dark, a rocket is circling the moon, visualizing the earth from our the window. We’ve all gone out the window and have forgotten just how precious we are…with our little shoes dangling. I need to tune my strings. I need to scream. I need to remember to have patience. Give it just a little more time. Everything will be all, everything will be alright.