The wind picked up late last night. And then the rain came, falling in big cold drops that made my teeth clatter when I ran outside. In the darkness with periodic flashes of lightning, that must have been some sight: a shivering man in his underwear throwing a cover over his grill as the rain came down and the tree branches shook.
The winds were gone by daybreak. The sky was blue. The sun was bright. The grass was taller and greener than yesterday. And the basil and oregano. And the ground was soft underfoot.
We got a lot of rain. No need to water the tomato today.
6:12:17 PM permalink:  feedback: comments: 
She answers the phone when I call her with a stillness in her voice, a steady calm that's unusual for her.
You don't feel good, I say.
I'm worried about you, she says.
Fair enough. I've got cancer again, and that is something to worry about. But she needs to know this. I've been thru this before, and it hasn't got me petrified, and it hasn't sunk me into despair.
I suspect that what she sees in me and what she worries about is my sombre face and my sometimes quiet voice. What she doesn't see, what she doesn't know because we haven't (yet) talked about it is that this is like the last two weeks before a marathon. My mind and my energy and my concentration are elsewhere, making me seem detached or sad or scared.
I am detached, but I am not sad, and I am not scared. I am gathering my energy.
12:07:30 AM permalink:  feedback: comments: