Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

The Ease of Simple Things

15,000 miles traversed by air. Three state lines crossed. Sleep through four time zones.

When back in familiar territory, nothing is routine.

Poetry still comes in the pillows, but now the roosters are awake, the sun closer to the horizon.

Words have less time, so they come in simply.

Appreciation for the slightest ease seems to smooth the days.

The way the bagel toasts golden. Cream cheese spreading in one, thick swipe.

The fresh fold of his t-shirt, the laundered creases emitting ordered readiness.

His nine-year old hand, reaching out in morning darkness. Growing fingertips pulling me closer to his dreamtime. The smell of shampoo on his hair.

We are the first at the bus stop, where a foot-long rat runs across a dewy lawn. The sky pinkens into a Wednesday.

There will be homework, a volunteer sign-up sheet, the appointment for the oil change, and still, that decision on the health insurance plan.

But today there is ease in simple things. A boy – my boy – pulls his backpack from the passenger side. And even though his friends linger by the bus stop bench nearby, he reaches over. Hugs me and says, “I love you.”

photo courtesy of Christian Cable
photo courtesy of Christian Cable
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 2 Comments

Snapshots of the Windy City

After a whirlwind tour that crossed three state lines (Illinois, Indiana, Michigan), the Bohemian and I have landed back among the crickets. We are officially back home.

With spotty internet connections at the various places where we slept, I left the Archives to rest while I mingled with the mid-westerners that gathered to celebrate love and marriage. With the Bohemian as the best man, our mission was one of support for the couple, specifically, the groom. There were highways to navigate, tuxes to be fitted, goulash meals to be shared, and appointments with the photographer to be kept.

With our own anniversary coming up at the end of this month, we did steal away and spend one day together beyond the wedding swirl. We wandered with our necks craned, viewing the heights of downtown Chicago, bracing ourselves against the cold. A windy city, yes, full of bustle, contrasting lines, and the interweaving dance of leaves and concrete.

We meandered, laughed, ate cheese and caramel popcorn, rode a ferris wheel, and toasted the day’s end with a glass of red wine. It was a short and sweet excursion, then off to Kalamazoo, where the festivities were beginning and we’d slip into our dancing shoes.

2013-11-14_carosel_city

2013-11-14_lake michigan

2013-11-14_leaves_building

2013-11-14_night_lights_city

2013-11-14_chicago window

2013-11-14_dancing shoes

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 5 Comments

BloMo

It seems I’ve always been a little bit on the fringe. Whether it be high school, a big party, a community gathering, or cyber space, I’m just not quite in the groove with the group.

After a lifetime of feeling a bit off-center from the flock, I’ve resigned to chalking it up to social awkwardness with random bouts of hermitdom.

Take NaBloPoMo (or National Blog Posting Month), the current challenge this November inspired by the famous NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), which offers inspiration for writers to ‘just do it’ in November. Write that novel, or post a blog a day for a month, depending on the acronym of choice.

I NaBloPoMo’d back in 2010, before there was a widget (or if there was one, I was ignorant in the fringe where I dwelt). Tried 40 days instead of 30 (worked for Jesus and the Buddha, was my reasoning). I guess it worked for me, too, as here I am at the end of 2013, still blogging away in the Archives, with over 750 posts accrued.

But ever-lingering in the eddies while the rest swirl in the center currents, looks like I unwittingly chose November to question all things daily-postable. As in, I decided to rebel against my own self, and pause on posting for days last week. Why? I began to question whether I had anything worthwhile to share. Wondered if this drive to produce a piece every day was simply offering up shoddy work in the name of a daily post.

Just as I dove deep into pondering, November kicked off and my fellow bloggers began showcasing their new commitment to a blogging discipline. I guess I didn’t get the memo while deep in existential meditation, though I am borrowing the logo for this post.

NaBloPoMo_November_blogroll_large

In summary, here’s the snapshot.

I’m still up before the sun this morning. As usual, the house sleeps while I type. The ocean waves are pounding that winter surf sound and I can hear them crashing in the distance, though the break is at least two miles away.

This morning will be a bus stop drop off for Jeb, as usual, though when I say goodbye, it will be for seven days, as the Bohemian and I climb aboard an airplane this evening. My husband has been chosen as best man for a wedding, all the way in Kalamazoo. By his side, I’ll try to be the best woman I can be.

I may write about the journey, or I may immerse myself so completely in the experience that I do not become the reporter. I may post blogs daily, or I may pause entirely on the Archives.

Who knows?

Clearly, I’m in need of a change-up, and a trip to the mid-west is what the Powers That Be are granting. So be it. I’ll take it. Thank you.

I may not be able to post the official NaBloPoMo badge to my home page, but I know I’ve been exploring this artistic dedication to share words with the world for years now. These things have cycles.

If I was laundry, I’d say I’m in the second rinse.