You haven’t heard from me for several days because I’ve been struggling with a few issues that took my attention. I couldn’t possibly describe them without complaint. Suffice it to say that I welcomed March. February did not smile for me.
I took the long road to Isleton today, past the flowering olive trees and the workers walking the vineyards. I stopped for an egret crossing Jackson Slough by foot, too stunned to grope for my camera. I stood for five long minutes on a dirt road watching cranes overhead, their last flight above the Delta, perhaps; headed south until fall.
At the post office, I fished a few pieces from the deep box. With my practice closed and the Park building secure mailboxes, I should soon be able to cancel this service. I stand by my car, tapping the letter from the Missouri Supreme Court on the door frame. Once inside, I eased back the flap, and stared at the unheralded contents.
I’ve held a lot of statuses in my life. Daughter, student, friend, wife, mother. But the title which I’ve had since 1983 defines so much of what I am. To see the small but important change reflected on my Missouri Bar card for 2019 both saddens and satisfies me.
The other day, someone asked me from where I come. I hesitated. Finally, I gave as honest an answer as I could short of saying “my mother’s womb”. I told him, I spent the first third of my life in St. Louis and, except for a few years in Arkansas, the second third in Kansas City. I intend to spend the last third in California.
He contemplated my answer for a few minutes, then said, “Cardinals or Royals?” I answered without hesitation, “Yes.”
It’s the first day of the sixty-third month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.