. . . wait out the rain

What are you doing here?

I’m watching sea gulls fly across a patch of blue sky.  And tons and tons of water flow west, north, northwest.  Dripping from the sky, dripping down out of local watersheds in hundreds of small cascades and flowing now to empty itself into the wide immensities that are Ocean.  And I’m watching an old lady in a crocheted cap – a black beanie with variegated neon seams – totter up to the rail overlooking the river.  She fusses about in her pocket, wipes her face with a kleenex, totters away.

What are you doing here?
I’m sipping orange mint tea from a thermos.  I’m eating a half-sandwich, one slice whole wheat: folded over, peanut butter: 100% and unadulterated.  And peapods.  And stunted carrots.  I have an apple waiting.  I am so very stuck in this age and place and socioeconomic profile, sitting here in my soccer-mom van at the water’s edge. . . .

.

[story: FEBRUARY 30, 2011 – “taking questions”]

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