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Along the way

I’m walking to yoga class. It’s not far, maybe half a mile. I’ve left enough time. No rush.

Coming ’round the bend, a car slows and the driver peers out the window. I know her from yoga class. She’s offering me a ride, which I decline. She continues along her way and I along mine.

Ahead of me, I see another classmate exiting her house and striding along the sidewalk. See? Another walker, plenty of time… but she is quickly pulling away, must not have seen me, must be in a hurry, may be in a mood.

Oh but…Look up at the cotton white clouds that decorate Carolina blue skies. There, the egret stands in the tall shore grasses. Sweet lily pads wave at me as I cross the bridge, a ruddy duck floats among them. Is that a heron just flying overhead? Of course, there are those noisy black ravens, cawing, cawing and oh my, the squawk, the shudder, the screech of those hilarious Sandhill Cranes, always in two’s. Keep away from our nest!

I arrive at yoga, find a spot and settle in on my mat. After class I thank my neighbor who had offered the ride. “I like to walk,” I tell her, hoping she’s not offended.

“Oh, I like to walk, too,” she says. “Three times everyday. We do our 10,000 steps.”

Is this what walking is now? To be quantified, measured, and recorded? Have we squeezed out all the juice and found the pulp sour but good for us? Oh, if we could only see ourselves, see in ourselves, to see for ourselves all the signs and wonders and magnificent gifts at our very door step.

Oh, the places we’d go if we realized the places we are.

Sneak Attacks of Joy

photo 1You sneaky Joy

You wait just ’round the corner
poised to … leap
just as soon as I
come your way.

There you are across the street
as I open the door to the new day.

Is that you who tickled me
as I watched the children playing
and the teens jostling
and the white-haired couple holding hands?

Surely it was you
who teared me up at the sight
of what I had always wanted
but didn’t know it, until just then.

Could you have been there, too,
when the man who had just lost his wife to cancer
handed me the empty dish
his wife had lovingly labeled with my name
so it might find its owner once she was gone?

Oh, Joy.
So surprised by you,
So disguised are you,
In your many faces,
many spaces,
hiding places,
deep recesses,
broad expanses.

You are stealth,
You are sneaky,
But I’ve got your number.
I see you.
I know you.
Because I have met you.
You are in me, of me, all around me.
You don’t scare me.

Oh, Joy.
Come.

Dear Keurig

keurig coffee makerYou are so convenient. I can get what I want immediately. Power. Poke. Press. Presto!

I have my solo cup of java and toss the evidence. Next customer.

But what of the

sound of grinding?

smell of brewing?

delightful waiting that stirs the taste buds as I watch the beverage climb its way up my pot?

What of the pouring in cup after cup as I share it with friends and family and we sit around a table for a friendly conversation or a good laugh?

Oh, but this allows everyone to have just what they want! Their own private blend! Suited to their taste buds, their preference, their caffeination, their strength.

Keurig, how you have met our needs to have just what we want at the expense of what we really need: a willingness and desire to satisfy everyone around the table, including but not only ourselves.

You seemed so nice when we first met.

Now I see you for who you really are.

Thanks anyway.

Sincerely,

Wendy LeBolt, coffee-lover

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