All before 7am…
Early Morning – Dry Creek
In Range
I had to drive down the road
to find a place where I was in range
pull out
and park
just above the spot
where the trickling creek
gets deep
and full of water fowl
living in low-slung trees
along the banks
I thought we had a missed connection
when my cell phone
got voicemail
what could I say
to convey
in thirty seconds
this restless stirring
so instead
I said
that I was sending love
on Christmas
from the foothills
the Bohemian –
well, he and I,
we surprise me
and suddenly our timing
clicks in a tick
and we make contact
he calls back
while I can still receive
reception
his voice ripples through me
with all his rounded consonants
a few omitted prepositions
his happy laughter
and I remember why
I love him
it doesn’t matter what he’s saying
though “I miss you, Jess!”
is nice to hear
along the river
a Great Heron takes flight
on wings that seem too big
to balance
a body that looks too huge
for flying
but with majestic grace
it moves its weight
in a slow and steady swoop
above the water
the Bohemian recaps the progress of our garden
admits he’s done more planting
but still left some space for me
he fixed those falling towel bars in the bathroom
polished the kitchen counters
cleared some of those fronds out of the yard
outside the windows of my parked car
sandy hillsides slope softly
in winter sunlight
beyond these hills there is an ocean
and in the middle of that sea
is a man with a beautiful accent
puttering around my house
and growing vegetables
there’s a sensation
right about the center of my chest
warm and moving
like honey with a fizz
and it feels good
in this parked car
with his voice right at my ear
he can eat my popcorn
and help himself to my kitchen cupboards
I don’t care
I’m so very happy in these foothills
but now I know the number
the exact amount of days
until I come home
Roller Towne and Hubba Bubba
I’m a time traveler in a new body that’s older, moving in the same spaces that are different. Some call this “going home.”
And I am in my hometown driving on highways that didn’t used to be here before, getting lost on my way to shopping centers that have sprouted in what were once empty fields.
They say the only constant in life is change. So no use in getting too comfortable with any one thing.
And then there’s Roller Towne (yes, that’s towne with an ‘e’), where yesterday, Jeb and I rolled along the edge of the predictable, on the very same (but different) rink where I learned how to skate, inching along and hugging that carpeted wall.
Often slow to warm to new ideas, Jeb needed some coaxing to get out on the rink with me. But bless him, he wasn’t too cool with all the pre-teens there to still hold my hand and let me pull him around the loop. After a few laps, he’d take a break and I would let loose at my own speed to move among the boys and girls, all twelve and under.
Darkness alight with strobes and flashing colors. Some turtles on the outside track with arms balancing on rolling scarecrow legs. Some jack rabbits zipping on inline skates, blowing past me on the inside. It didn’t take long to get my rhythm, even if it was to the over modulated stereo sounds of Justin Beiber. I’ll admit it, I took my hair down. Let the Roller Towne wind blow through me. Exchanged another wave with Jeb and lapped the track again, the exhilaration surprising me.
In a rush of some strange ecstasy of freedom and speed (taking care not to collide into the 11-year-old girl sending text messages while she skated) I thought of how this was the first year I took no personal vacation time. For the last three years I’ve saved my money to make a solo escape, sit in hot springs for a few days, mingle among fringe-dwelling soul-seekers, and take some time to feel like myself (sans motherhood) again.
This year did not allot for this luxury. And so I take the fill-ups where I can. The rush of the smooth wheels beneath me, the pumping electronic beats on the Roller Towne speakers…for a moment I thought, “Forget hot springs, organic food, and beautiful self-realized men. This year I’ve got Roller Towne with the pre-teens. And right now, all is right in the world.”
Jeb and I, we did a few more laps together, too. We even had one good wipe out that landed us both on our behinds. Neither one of us was in our normal stride. And that’s a good thing once in a while.
Somewhere after Roller Towne and during Jeb’s first piece of Hubba Bubba chewing gum, I find myself fielding texts and emails from two old flames. They are both Californians. And in the last 5 years, each one of these men has had their time resting deep inside my heart. It’s been ages since I’ve connected with either one of them, and as if they sense my presence on their golden shore, they both reach out to me within 24 hours.
Past, present and future collide in the confines of my mother’s borrowed station wagon. I’ve got Czech Unit 1 on pause in my ear buds. I’m certainly missing the Bohemian. Jeb and I are driving past the exit for Lover’s Lane (this hometown landmark hasn’t changed).
Jeb’s made his first real bubble with his gum. “I think I’m getting the hang of this!”
(Note to self: give Jeb the proper tools for the job. No more organic xylitol gum squares when he’s trying to learn to blow bubbles.)
We drive away from town, back to the country where there will be no cell reception. It’s ok that I’ll be out of range. I’ve accomplished much. I got my Roller Towne fix. I blew 47 pink bubbles. I sent good wishes to past loves. I learned how to ask for directions in Czech.
Jeb and I, we’re learning. Trying new things in familiar surroundings. Each moment like a hometown. The essence the same, but always changing.
And it’s decided. I’m getting skates for Christmas and I’m gonna roll through 2012.
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