Is it possible to feel totally whacked out and yet calm and clear at the same time? Bumbling but happy? That is how I felt today. A sense of profound gratitude for all I have. For feeling I am in the right place for me and all is well.
But, as I read on a friend’s Facebook posting, the week between Christmas and New Year’s is the week when you don’t know what day it is. Are you at work, between families, at the airport, staring at boxes in the garage, lounging in your flannel pajamas, flip-flopping around the corner, flipping through a book, wanting to get out for a hike or sleep all day? Finishing up the holiday cookies or grinding away with the NutriBullet? Should you be serious or silly?
I stopped in at Trader Joe’s for a few items, thinking it would be quiet. Wrong! Everyone from five miles around plus straggling visitors was there. Toddlers and grandpas. Mothers and young guys.
No one was moving fast. Like we were all in a trance. We were bumping into each other, but none seemed impatient or upset. One young woman was reading off the ingredients to the “green juice” to her husband. Another was letting her kids run around wild and for some odd reason it seemed okay. Others were filling their carts, piling high, overflowing. Preparing for the week ahead, for returning to normal life. Let it be Monday.
I asked one of the clerks where the aspirin was. Oh we don’t carry stuff like that, she said. Another clerk overheard and pointed to the booze. There’s all the pain reliever you need, he joked, in his Hawaiian shirt. I laughed, didn’t feel the need to tell him I hadn’t had a drink in 26 years. I appreciated the humor.
From there, I go to Armstrong Nursery. Study the trellises, not knowing exactly what I need.
Back at home, I measure the balcony wall for a trellis and unpack the morning glory seeds. I print out the tasks I plan to accomplish in the coming days when normal life starts tomorrow.
My cat comes out of the shadow, walks across my keyboard and settles into my lap, her head in the crook of my arm.