This morning I even left my house for my walk earlier than usual (5:35 AM) thinking I might avoid so many cars zipping up Shelter Bay Drive to the gated entrance. Was I wrong. More cars than ever at the earlier hour, dashing to work I would have to think. I hoofed it to the first side road, Sonomish Drive and walked by my old friend’s house, recalling the times I’d come to her house to help with her lawn. Now the house sits empty, a For Sale sign by the driveway. Another reminder of how things change, Cindy spending more time now in the Wenatchee area. But it’s not just that. It’s how I’ve changed over the last few years, principally in terms of shifting my focus from “out” to “in”, paying more attention now to finding resources within, not so I can stay there locked in eternal repose, but so that I can step back out into the world, my personal, day-to-day world, better able to respond to others’ concerns, happy to work one-on-one, nothing too small, since whatever the subject, I already know, will easily lead to something bigger and important in this whole business of living together. And I remain curious to what exactly that important thing is. For me, as many of you may have read, it starts with love but love comes in many shapes and sizes. Erotic love is one, brotherly love another and then the big one, agape love, the kind of love exemplified by Jesus we’re told because it champions love as sacrifice, giving your life for another or for many, in Jesus’ case.
It’s funny, odd, that I was only partially conscious of the beauty of the morning as I walked, preoccupied with the enjoyable times I’d had with Cindy, an object of beauty in her own right, wavy blonde hair and bright blue eyes – and 20 years younger. We even traveled by ferry together to Sitka, AK sharing a stateroom but always careful not to share anything else. For all that, enjoyable company. By the time I was walking around the small Shelter Bay golf course, my mind had moved on to playing golf there one day and wondering what kind of clubs I’d use. A putter certainly and maybe an eight or nine iron. At one time I recall there being on the market a single club, the head of which could be adjusted from a flat putter to the sharp angle of a nine iron. My thoughts of golf were interrupted by a woman who I’d first met at the same spot two days ago, carrying her travel cup of hot tea with her minature poodle “Dudley” trailing behind. Then I’d mentioned to her my experience of seeing the wind as the breath of God. This time she said she’d remembered what I’d said and repeated it to her girl friend. Before we parted she told me her name and I gave her my bakery card. From there I headed down Swinomish Drive and home, still not taking-in much of the bird song around me.
It was a good hour’s walk but not productive in the usual sense of working through a poem or dealing with some other issue calling for creativity. I didn’t feel particularly creative anyway today, thinking about plans for my dinner party tonight. And then I passed Cindy’s house which triggered the past not unpleasantly so, but diverted me from any current challenge. Nor do I feel, in Cindy’s case, any unresolved issues sticking around and asking for resolution. No, Cindy and I had a good relationship as long as it lasted. Nothing at all to regret. So now, my thoughts turn to the kitchen and tonight’s menu.
