This Day in Time

 

JOURNAL

This Day in Time

Bill Barksdale, Columnist

The alarm goes off.  It’s early.  My old cat is curled up at the bend of my knees.  He stretches lazily not sure if he really wants to get up or not.  I reach down and give him a scratch and a tickle.  He looks at me and yawns.  As I tuck my legs up to not disturb him he finally jumps off the bed to walk right in front of me knowing I’m on the way to the kitchen to dish out his scoop of canned food laced with his med.  I brush and floss my teeth then chug down a big glass of water like every morning.  It’s time to get ready for my yoga class.

I switch on the radio.  A bad idea as it turns out because the news story is about an angry, violent woman on an airplane who punches the flight attendant that asked her to please put her Covid mask on, knocking out the attendant’s teeth.  Since I have to fly in a couple of days myself to visit my 100 year old mother, I’m uncomfortable, even angry as the news story goes on to talk about crazy people attacking flight attendants.  What if some looney loses it on my flight?

I decide to walk to yoga.  It’s a beautiful day.  A light, balmy breeze.  Lots of birds tweeting and flying around.  Watching a bird fly always amazes me.  To fly, what a miracle.  I’ve always hated to see a bird in a cage.  I pass by a fence wrapped in fragrant vines of star jasmine blooms.  This is a good year for roses too.  Every yard seems to have magnificent roses of peach, yellow, deep red, pure white, some with that sweet perfume that only roses have.  I stop and sniff the ones closest to the sidewalk for a scent.  The sky is that delicious blue that stretches to infinity. 

As I step into the yoga space with its high ceilings, door and windows open - friends I’ve done yoga with for years, all vaccinated and spaced well apart, are slowly warming up their muscles, relaxing into a morning of stretching and letting go.  The old wooden floor seems welcoming.  My usual spot is already warmed from the sun streaming in the window.  I twist slowly then reach up toward the ceiling as far as I can and bend over to touch my toes, and my back lets go of some tightness. 

After class, a few of us walk to a nearby cafe’ with its outdoor tables shaded by large umbrellas flapping in the Spring breeze, the trickling of water from Morgan’s fanciful fountains are the music as we begin to laugh at the stories we share of the past week.  A cup of morning coffee.  Our breakfast stretches from an hour into two.  Finally the lunch crowd begins to drift in so we decide it’s time to move on to our days. 

I should vacuum when I get home, but decide the garden needs some weeding.  The tomatoes need their newest vines placed carefully up into their cages so they give each other room to space out and make lots of fruit for later in the summer.  The garden is a lot smaller this year to conserve water but I love those home-grown tomatoes.  I rarely buy tomatoes.  They can’t compare to the fruity, juicy ones I grow myself.  I always have some to share with friends.  There’s hardly a better gift for most people I know.  I look forward to those sandwiches with a big slice of my sweet treasures. 

My compost pile is filled with potatoes growing from last season’s peelings.  I decide to let them grow.  Looks like we’ll have a good crop.  My friends Steve & Fawn already have a huge crop of potatoes springing up.  Steve is so proud of his peaches.  He’s offered me a small peach tree in a pot that he grew from seed but I just don’t have room for any more trees in my yard which already has apples and plums readying for a Fall harvest.  I gathered my jars and lids early this year so I’ll be ready for canning time.

Off in the distance I hear the whistle of the Skunk Train.  I love that sound.  When I lived in New York City & San Francisco many years ago that was a sound I never heard.  The vacuuming can wait a while longer.  My neighbor, Bill, pops his head over the fence to ask how my day is going.  “Great”, I blurt out perhaps too enthusiastically.  I have the greatest neighbors.  What a blessing. 

It’s time to sit down and write for a while.  I can hardly get through a day without writing for half-an-hour or so.  Don’t know why.  Although I’ve written in a journal from time-to-time since I was in high school, I was never much of a writer, but now I don’t feel like my day is complete if I don’t write for a bit.  Just one of those habits I acquired as I’ve gotten older. 

Suddenly I get it into my head to play Electric Light Orchestra’s rapturous anthem All Over the World.  “Everybody all around the world, gotta tell you what I just heard.  There’s gonna be a party all over the world!”  I start rockin’ out and dancing.  It’s turning out to be a really fine day.  I grab the vacuum as I sing along and, almost like dancing, I’m shaking my booty and swooping around the house.  I wasn’t the first one to say it but, always try to reach for the thought that feels better!  Might get a clean house out of it.