No Prompt

Bluebells

Really?! No prompt?

Unless yoga ending with shavasana is the prompt.

Or perhaps her zoomed voice at our writing circle, “It’s time to write. You have 20 minutes.”

But I have looked forward to this nudge

with these women.

And now what?!

 

Breathe.

 

Only a briefly blank mind.

 

Then I hear his voice on the phone from the other room,

presumably ordering supplies;

it has that business-like tenor.

And the birds, again are riotous.

Even though the windows are closed, I can hear their exquisite racket.

 

I am grateful we live in Seattle in this neighborhood,

close to the ravine;

it is full of trees and springtime.

 

Even the bluebells that are virus-like make our garden beds woodsy.

 

I have only just now appreciated those exuberant, virulent flowers.

 

Rob and I have always disagreed about them.

They are everywhere and threaten to consume these gardens he’s slaved over.

They are not unlike the virus that threatens to consume us.

 

When we argue about the bluebells, he always says,

“But they will bloom soon. You have to admit they are beautiful then.”

 

And I do have to admit it.

 

What a petty quarrel.

 

Now I see they are here because we live so close to the woods.

Even deep in our city, close to its center, we are near a forest.

 

I wonder

Could there possibly be anything about this virus that makes it redeemable?

 

Like the chance to re-boot.

Or a demographer might say—God, stop him!—“Think on a grander scale. How else are we going to balance out this runaway human population?” Ouch.

And arguably, it does have a sheen of fairness to it. Even as I write that I shake my head. While both rich and poor can get it, the rich, with our material resources, will suffer less.

 

Consider. How could it be redeemable for little me?

 

Well, I now know that Rob and Marlene’s Joaquin (in Nicaragua) have the same birthday—March 24th—thanks to incessant, stuck-at-home e-chatter. That’s remarkable—two wonderful calm and steady men.

And my vices, like them or not, are more obvious.

I am letting myself rest more.

 

Plus I am taking the time to taste gratitude and let it roll around on my tongue:

I have Rob.

He is alive.

He is kind.

He is funny.

We have these years of getting to know each other well.

 

Isn’t that a great expression—

“Getting to know each other well.”

I think I’ll cross out “to know”—

“Getting Each Other Well.”

 

What could be more worthwhile than that?

 

 

 

 

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