Sometimes I hear the piano playing but the hands which plunk its keys live far away, or have passed to another life, or have grown clumsy.  The first song my son learned to play was “Ode to Joy”.  Its notes resonate in my memory, over and over.

The lumpy days crowd but the joyful ones raise me to float among the clouds.  It seems that joy comes easier to the light-hearted, and so as I release each burden, I feel more joyful.

Yesterday I finally got to put my passport application to the test.  I presented myself at what I thought had been the appointed hour, 9:00 a.m.  The lady at the counter alleged that I  had been expected at 9:30 and that “the passport person says, Come back at 9:30”.  I kept my smile plastered on my face and went to fill my gas tank and drive through Wendy’s for RedHeaded coffee.  At 9:30 the passport lady told me that I did not have an appointment, a man named Reis had been put in my place.  She showed me the hand-written scrawl.  I gritted my teeth and held out my now-rumpled manila folder.  She called out, “Mr. Reis!  Mr. Reis!” but he did not answer.  She relented.

She asked for an alternate contact number which I gave her.  She bade me to raise my right hand and swear, outloud, before her, God, and a bunch of Raytown residents, that the picture was me.  This struck me as absurd — couldn’t she see? — but no matter.  I swore it.  I also swore the information on the application was true and correct even though I’m not entirely sure I got the date of my divorce exactly right.  I swore.  I did not have to swear allegiance or that I’d conduct myself in an orderly fashion overseas.  Just the two items, and I had to pay $1.37 for a money order but it’s done.

I thanked her twice.  I stopped on the way out to thank the lady who made me come back at 9:30.  I thanked a man who opened the door for me.  When I got out into the parking lot, I held the door for a little old lady entering the post office and thanked her, and told her to have a nice day.  She paused in the entry way and promised that she would.  I believed her.

It’s the second day of the thirty-second month of My [Never-Ending] Year Without Complaining.  I’m a little goofy but my life continues.  As does yours, I trust.