This morning, so far (or, Why I Drive as Little as Necessary)

By Linda Bergeron
Walking errands: going down the street “looking for a feather,” and corrected my thinking to “being where I might find a feather.” To the library to make copies before mailing the envelope to the friend: the magazine pages were a hard size to get a left and a right onto a single copy (silent grumbling). Thought instead: to make copies at the newspaper office. A stop at the ATM machine but it did not work: snowmobilers were in town all weekend and here it was a full hour before the bank would open (sigh). Backtracked to the library and slowly, deliberately printed out single pages, sealed the envelope, borrowed enough petty cash to cover the mailing of packages.

Walked to the post office and shipped the four packages I had. Walked to the phone company to drop off sprouts for employee Tom. Paused in the parking lot to greet former landlord Bill who, at 84-plus keeps going smiling, walking, doing, and I related my south-end-of-town-house temperature yesterday morning of 14 deg. F, but that this morning it was 10; he said his house across the street from here had 13. We smiled. I offered, “But… it’s going to be a sunny afternoon,” and he agreed as we parted.

I walked homeward down S. Pine past Velda’s house, thought-of-a-feather-and-saw-a-feather (interior smile). Saw two black birds flying happy together above me (thought of the spirited friend), then a third, trailing. Found: a couple more feathers outside Fran’s house, then another, larger, less fragile.

Turned the corner onto Dawson, spotting a hawk in the distant bare willow trees in the southern creek pasture. Watched him, felt his body watching back, with my full awareness of the intense sun shining upon me from the peripheral left, sensing his message that the times are still critical; I remembering the aboriginal’s retelling last night on the phone of how a scout would place his own vision behind the hawk’s eyes to see what he, a man, could not.

Walked home: a lovely, cautious, take-nothing-for-granted early spring morning. Inside the front door, emptying my pocket I found the bank card that did not work was another, similar-blue card (interior smile). I swept the entry floor, which I had been meaning to do for days.

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