Today's toss was two bags of silverware that's been downstairs for years. I don't know why I keep things like that. One bag was from the camping gear which hasn't been used for at least 20 years and the other was the stainless I replaced with Grandma Babe's silver a couple years ago. I love using the silver so tell me why I kept the other stuff. I have no idea. Not keeping it any longer.
I saw one hawk perched on top of a power pole in the neighbor's backyard this afternoon when I sat outside for a while but it was too far away for a good picture. So here's the second hawk sitting in the Adirondack chair yesterday just after the squirrel took off.
After my shower and getting dressed I added some rows to Stuck-at-Home Warshrag #5.
28 June--Barbara Malcolm, Tropical Obsession.
Like a ball of molten glass, the
sun sank into the west behind the ocean-hugging silhouette of Klein Bonaire, the
small uninhabited island a half-mile offshore. All up and down the leeward
shore of the main island ice cubes tinkled against glass as resort guests,
snowbirds, and permanent residents alike settled into patio chairs to celebrate
the survival of another day. Rum paired with pineapple and guava juices swirled
in sweaty glasses and rinsed the persistent taste of salt from the parched tongues.
Mona’s hand trembled as it lifted
crystal to lips, the glass chattered against her perfect teeth, the villa behind
her was reproachful in its silence. She stood bathed in the reddened rays of
the dying sun wondering where Jack had gone and when he would return.
The sound of tires on the crushed
coral drive erased the minute wrinkle that had begun to grow between her brows.
She set her glass down on a palm leaf coaster and smoothed a hand over her hair
before levering a smile up from the depths of her emergency bag of tricks and
turning to walk through the darkening rooms. She left light in her wake, one
lamp in each room, as she made her way to the front door.
She ran her thumb over the surface
of the shell in her pocket. The tiny ridges and whorls like a fingerprint, each
little bump and dip were the only things that felt real to her. Events had
spiraled so out of control, out of her control that if it weren’t for the little
scrap of shell nestled in a teaspoon of sand in the pocket of her shorts, she
would run screaming into the night.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this,
her life was meant to be calm, serene even. She had played by all the rules,
upheld her end of the cosmic bargain--kept herself trim, informed, well-groomed. She cultivated an interest in art and finance, even though at first
the numbers and their antics had seemed like a foreign language. But she had
persevered, had spent time with her nose in books, magazines like Barron’s,
even subscribed to the Wall Street Journal for a while which she considered a
kind of grad course in companionship.
“His companion” that’s what Jack
called her. At first there had been a warm intimate caress in his voice when he
said it that made her happy to hear it, but lately there was a sharp, almost
disgusted, note to his voice that made her want to take a shower.
It had been hours since he left in
the minivan taxi on some unspecified mission. He didn’t tell her where he was
going or why. It had been nearly one hour since the island policeman had come
to the door to tell her that they had fished a body out of the sea on the
northern end of the island, a body with Jack’s ID in its pocket.
“Where was Jack?” the policeman
asked her fifteen different ways in his low honeyed island voice.
If it weren’t for the little scrap
of seashell in her pocket, she would be screaming.
I am distressed by the surging numbers of COVID cases all over. Just when I thought we were flattening the curve and I started to feel like it was a bit safer to go places, it isn't. I'm coming to think that 2020 will be a washout of a year, that things aren't going to level out and creep back toward what used to pass for normal until next year, if ever. I don't like it.
--Barbara
1 comment:
Today's hawk almost looks like a lawn ornament out there in the chair. Thanks goodness the birds come to visit -- very few humans in this time of COVID. It's hard to get motivated to do much of anything. I agree that this year is shaping up to be a wipe-out. But with sanitary wipes!! Even the Sunshine State is bleak. Our Governor leaves something to be desired.
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