Heidi ~ May 25

 

I woke up feeling clear headed, following my body’s request for slow pacing.  I don’t want to talk with anyone, hear the news, or tap into a spiritual podcast telling me how to be better, get better, or even not to care about better.  I will just listen to the swish of cars going by my open window in the morning sun, an ocean wave in the city on Broadway over the Ginza Japanese restaurant that won’t open until hours from now.  Soon the Rip Van Winkle touring ship down the block will toot is horn announcing the first trip of the day, my neighbor will strum his zither-looking instrument in the abandoned alcove next door where the donut shop used to be, songs I can’t make out but enjoy the drone, soon Memorial Day visitors will stroll the streets, some from cabin cruisers docked at the harbor, some parked along Broadway from places here and there.  Most will gather along the creek in restaurants with a view.  Yesterday on my late afternoon walk I passed a yacht name “Plan B,” the inhabitants a couple with nice legs propped on a white leather couch watching CNN.  What is Plan A I vaguely muse. And why do they bother to get on a boat if they are just going to watch TV.  Among the fancy cruisers, local people will come with their children and make-shift fishing poles thrown into the filthy waters next to a sign “Fish from these waters may contain toxins and are not safe to ingest.” Soon it will be too hot to leave the windows open.  I will put on the AC to block out the arriving, cruising motorcycles but their deep base vibrations will still invade.  I won’t care, I will make chicken soup, do my 20 minutes of yoga and head out for greener pastures.