I dreamt I was a pillar underneath a great table and my power was small but infinite. So was every other leg, and I felt a serene peace flow over me, knowing that I did not need to be anything greater or less than what I was holding up and made of.
Today is the day of animal guides, I am told
So I listen.
I see the mother bird watching me carefully but fully, perched atop her five eggs
I barbarously dig up a curled worm from our raised garden bed and I watch it unfurl in the sun.
She flys to a tall tree branch in the yard and I drop it into her nest. I tell her hello, and that she is safe. She comes down while I hide and she eats it. I wonder if this is a kindness. I think it depends on the chosen perspective.
I sign my name to a petition for justice over a death and I donate some of this government money to a cause that I feel rage and privilege and sadness over.
I wonder about the word “Justice”.
Later I park at the trailhead to Sun Mountain, the only car there today. A woman pulls up wearing medical scrubs and wonders aloud about a lost bandana mask she purchased at a plaza gift shop that is dear to her. We don’t find it together. I begin the hike and notice a giant lizard scurrying ahead then dip under the shade of a desert bloom. I see a bluebird fly over the path ahead. I feel Ryker’s tired sweet soul while we rest on the summit, sharing water and watching the wind blow over the wide world. He sees me and I see him. We drive onward and bask in the yard and I sing badly on the ukulele. I sauté vegetables for Eric and we smile and eat in silence, him absorbed with a deadline and me with the moon.
I write a letter to Sully who has the virus. I put my heart in it, I hope. I write a letter to my sister. I receive a texted photo of my mother and her mother’s face, smiling up at me with the same blue eyes and cheeks and grin. I take an abnormal route to mail a letter and I see an older woman resting in the shade of a curb, I ask her if she is alright and if I can give her a ride. She accepts, we drive down the short road to her home. She calls me an angel.
I think about everything. I don’t always say or do the right “somethings”, but it feels alright sometimes.