Snap-snap
in the saucepan go the green beans. While my hands methodically prepare
the vegetable for dinner, I stare through the kitchen window above the
sink and acknowledge a similar ritual of my dear husband;
straight-turn-straight as the lawnmower paves parallel lines across the
backyard. What is HE thinking? I know what I'm thinking: how did I
get here? I'm standing in my dream home. . . really. George and I
designed it; we saw the lot before it had a house; we said, "We want a
quiet neighborhood (check); privacy (check); we want lots of light, lots
of windows (check), no worries about electrical wiring that would meet
"code" (check); kitchen floor that could actually be cleaned (check),
plenty of room to play for our two daughters (check). 2 Niko Way was. .
. and is everything I hoped for. I have my home.
I'm thrown off balance, though. Even as the lawnmower makes its steady
progress across the lawn, while I'm "snap snapping" the green beans, my
iTunes playlist betrays me; "Spirit in the Sky" by Norman Greenbaum
expands to fill the air, and - just like that - I'm catapulted back to
my high school days. Of course it was me who PUT that song on my
playlist, but that was a while ago, and I must have been in a
sentimental mood when I did it. Excuses, perhaps?
So... I'm now feeling like that same teenager who
- in the early Seventies, striving to mask a million insecurities,
couldn't help but close my eyes and sway with the music. Yes, that's what I did with no inhibitions then, and, yes, that's what I still can do without inhibition now (if no one is around).
Life promises and provides no script. You can never be so sure-of-foot;
sometimes you're here and now. . . and then - just like that - you're
there and then, seeing the world as if it were 1970. . . 1974.
