Another beautiful day in paradise

No, I haven’t gone back to California.  I’m sitting in the same spot which I occupied to write yesterday, in Jeanne Foster’s cute kitchen.  The ice-cream parlor wrought iron chairs and table stand in a flood of sunshine.  Her cat sleeps next to my tablet and a few inches from the back of my laptop.  It seems content so I decided to let it be.

Crystalline blue rises from the  hillside, accented by the dappled brown of the winter trees.  Her house casts a shadow against the glow of the lawn in the morning sunshine.  My heart gave a little jump when I saw that the weather would cooperate with my drive to Rocheport to meet my sister Joyce for lunch.  A good day.  Another beautiful day in paradise.

I got one hard task out of the way yesterday.  I stood in front of the pile of stuff in the storage unit.  Funny what remains: A couple of chairs; the metal pie-safe that I got when my brother died, which once held linens and potatoes in my mother’s kitchen; a few boxes of God-knows-what; lamps, footstools, blankets, and a bag or two of paperwork inside one of which, I have no doubt, I will find my birth certificate.  A pile of stuff 10 feet wide, 10 feet deep, and no more than 4 feet high.  Not much, in other words.  Less than I imagined.

I’ll start giving things away later this week, when Paula K-V and I visit in earnest on Wednesday afternoon.  We’ll have a couple of hours.  We’ll take what we can grab.  I’ll come back a few more times before I leave.  I’ll rummage, I’ll donate, I’ll sort and yes, I’ll grouse a little.  But I’ll get it done.  At 60 bucks a month, that storage unit will not  pay for itself.

A woman named Lynette walked me upstairs at Public Storage to show me the location of my unit.  Along the way, we talked about tiny house living.  Lynette let loose a trill of laughter.  At six-two and two-ten, she would not fit in a tiny house very well, she imagined.  But she would like a she-cabin, and she’s asked her fiance to build one in their backyard.  I scribbled my name on a paper and suggested she look at my YouTube channel.  She got the gate opened for me, and offered to stay if I wanted anything dragged out.  I bet I’m a bunch stronger than you, she said.   I declined; yesterday was just recon.  She nodded, wished me a blessed day, and strolled back to the elevator.

All these random strangers keep blessing me.   Eventually, those blessings will manifest.  I feel certain of that.  I suspect some of them already have.

Later in the evening, I visited my dear friend Katrina, she who fostered our dog.  We took a little video of me and the dog for my son.   She told me about her upcoming retirement, and i talked a little about my ob search.  The irony settled around us unmentioned.   I made my way back here before 9:00, tired, content, and convinced of the blissful ordinariness of my tiny life.

It’s the twenty-fifth day of the fiftieth month of My Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.

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