What I ignored
From a wild write in 2024; re-reading it I see that it was written after I had driven to the workshop — in Point Richmond — from my home in San Francisco. The prompt was “what I ignored today.”
K’s sweetness as he left to get lumber at Beronio’s and talked about the grocery list. Lemons, hand soap, brown rice.
The big buckeye tree in the backyard. Filling the space between the buildings. A container for birds and insects. Adorned with ripe green buckeyes like Christmas tree balls.
This pain in my heart about being misunderstood or unappreciated or even reviled. How I want it to be otherwise. How I feel myself straining at the reins to break free of it. The steeliness and carelessness I don’t possess to just compartmentalize that remakr, that insult, that ignorant viewpoint, that attitude lobbed my way.
The chartreuse beauty of my Subaru. Chosen purposefully to delight me whenever I behold it. Who knew a car color could make me so happy?
The path up Dolores Street, with the big palm trees like columns in the middle of the road. How unlikely for them to live here.
The sound of my wheels as I moved onto the Bay Bridge. Singing and humming. Maybe there’s even a joy in it. Like Pooh Bear and Piglet. Their tiddely pom thing.
The fog curling and lifting and shape shifting along the gold of the East Bay hills.
The author of Quit, on audiobook, telling me all the good reasons to quit. And I have a list of things to consider quitting.
House of Cards by Radiohead. That echoing guitar.
The aches in my thumb, but the mobility I’ve regained in PT.
Point Richmond exit. How the traffic miraculously moves. Everyone going forward. Aware of the other cars. Signaling. Passing. Looking in the side and rearview. Considerate of the lives of others.
The blue of the bay. The brick and stucco buildings. Surely a bell clanging somewhere, on a boat or a buoy. How do you spell buoy? A wake up call. The bell. The water. The breath. Wake up wake up wake up.
