Thursday, May 2, 2024

     An abandoned basil plant lives on my kitchen counter for several months. I don’t have the heart to kill it.  Several friends have refused to take it. I water it most days and it looks at me with bright hopeful leaves.

     Outside, in the morning, warming my body I watch the work crew across our narrow street.  Six white trucks park on the street and driveway. Six construction guys wearing dark, tough hoodies, walk back to their trucks to grab their tools and equipment. They speak a language that I don’t understand. I am embarrassed to say that the more I watch, the less scary they seem to me.

     The rock roses are blooming their pink flowers. I am grateful for their flowers.  And yet I realize that I am just a bystander in their prolific lives.

     I walk twice a day, pacing on the deck, back and forth, building up my strength. I focus on the movement of my body, particularly my legs and knees.  Don’t trip. Step higher. Pay attention. Don’t get distracted by the birds and the views of Mt Toro. It doesn’t take long before I am bored and want to go back inside to my comfy recliner.