A Dig
Never let anyone tell you writing isn’t work. This morning, before I put fingers to keyboard, I had to lie down on the floor, on my back, and re-attach the holder for my keyboard. This involved a quick search for a replacement screw. I knew I needed a new one because the old one was tiny and had wallowed out its home. I found a replacement in the magical screw and nail drawer, every home has one, it’s a place where we think we keep miscellaneous screws and nails but in reality, they’re simply created on demand. If you can’t find what you need, it’s the drawer’s way of telling you to stop worrying about it. I bless the drawer.
The new screw in now in place. Everything feels firm and I’m back in business. I didn’t have as much success with my garden work yesterday. No liquid corn gluten. I checked several stores, no luck. I ordered it online. To replace that planned work, I gathered up a collection of cedar poles we have so that I can build a gazebo for the Morning Glory. It over-powered the wire contraption I created last year, which was really a sorry contraption and hardly worthy of a spot in my garden. The new contraption will be a marvel, mostly to me. Visitors are usually polite and less wonderous at my work.
In gathering the cedar, I had to clean the old garden beds we have in the back lots. It was a bit like an archeological expedition. These were the beds my late wife used for okra and other miscellaneous vegetables she grew. They eventually fell into disrepair, however, as her dementia worsened, and finally disappeared under the tall grass. They’re back now for a bit. Not exactly the remnants of Troy, but a fine memory, nonetheless. Now, I’m going to dig up the stone edging and repurpose it, which I believe is what happens to old cities and monuments and lives. There’s no telling where our atoms will go when we’re gone. I only hope they’re put to good use.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale