Sylvia's Journal

This morning, as I drove down an empty stretch of 128 in the early morning sunlight I pondered how peace(fullness) and health are two things that we take for granted when we have so much of it. And then, when they are gone, we wake up to their shocking importance.

I tried to imagine that same stretch of 128 pockmarked from exploded shells, with blast walls along the sides, obscuring the blossoming trees, and covered with razor wire; men with guns at road blocks ahead.

It is not too hard to create this vista after having lived in the Middle East and Afghanistan. I imagined myself driving in this scene with a heavy heart, thinking about all the good times that I took for granted and leaving me full of regrets. Regrets of not enjoying beauty, health and peace more, being distracted by unimportant things, wishes and wants that have nothing to do with beauty, health and peace.

This is of course a reality for people all over the world, for older people who have known times before things started to fall apart, in Syria, in Afghanistan, in Iraq and Iran.

I drove the rest of my commute to Cambridge trying to fill my heart and lungs with all these things I take for granted.

We are eating asparagus every other evening. They are now popping up like crazy in our garden. It is hard to keep up. We prepare them the Flemish way, always: a hardboiled egg, potatoes, ham, all drizzled with butter, and then a bottomless dish of asparagus. We are managing the asparagus beetles with a non-toxic calcium-like powder they prefer to eat over the asparagus, which subsequently kills them. It seems to work as the spears have straightened up and we can keep picking and eating.

Last night was candidates’ night at the Legion in Manchester for next week’s town government elections. We came a little too late to mingle informally with the candidates, three for two empy selectmen slots. The meeting started with all of us turning to the flag and pledging our allegiance. I still find that awkward, especially putting my right hand on my heart, but I did, and then watched Axel’s mouth for the words. I can nearly do this on my own now.

The process of getting to know the candidates was highly choreographed, with three citizens (a student, a soccer mom and a retired person) asking questions to the three candidates for a specific number of minutes after which the iPhone chimed. After that we, unscripted people, got to ask questions. I asked how they bring people together over contentious topics, like budgets, schools and dogs on the beach. One candidate said it wasn’t rocket science, but I think it is more complex than rocket science, handling strong and brittle egos when taxes and real estate values are at stake.

The candidates were showing their best sides and hardly differentiated themselves from each other. Other criteria will have to be considered such as do I vote a woman because she is a woman, a smart woman at that? Do I go for the newcomers (both of them men)? Do I go for commitment? And what counts as commitment? And what about this ‘rocket science’ statement?
Having done my civic duty I tumbled into bed about the same time that 2nd graders turn in. I have to in order to get my 8 hours of sleep.

We met Alison and Mark at the Me and Thee coffeehouse in Marblehead to see Zoe and Mark play. It was my third Zoe (Lewis) concert and so I was familiar with many of the stories and songs that she intertwines into an extraordinary performance, with Mark adding a beautiful touch of clarinet to fill out the mood. Zoe and Mark’s concerts make me happy, which was happiness added to my sense of liberation.

On Sunday we had conspired with Tessa and Steve to surprise Sita on her first mother’s day. Sita thought I was in Egypt and Jim kept the secret. We showed up on that beautiful Sunday, after having driven through a major downpour, with a complete brunch and flowers and plants. We found Sita planting her medicinal garden to which we added a few more plants. It was a total surprise indeed.

We enjoyed our lunch sitting in the garden, much like I imagine French Sunday afternoon family lunches, joyful and noisy. Faro joined us after lunch, refreshed from a nap, showing off his red hair that is coming in fast.

We planted potatoes in the front and back garden, settled two rhododendrons and laid down on the grass with Faro and the dogs crawling all over us leaving Sita the space and time to garden without having to worry about anything. That’s the best mother’s day present.

And then the sense of liberation faded away as my empty schedule started filling up again.