Walking and waiting

Last week I hit the curb hard and ruined a tire. Today I paid the price. Three hours and umpteen dollars. Waiting seemed archetypal. Waiting for the tire to be fixed. Waiting for the tires to be aligned. Waiting for spring. Waiting for my sister’s move to be over, the younger boy to settle, the vacation to get planned, waiting for indictments, waiting for this part of the nightmare to be over

A small space of discovery opened while walking behind the buildings across from the tire place. Just one or two buildings away from busy Washington Street, we found a surprising and welcome quiet. I couldn’t believe how quiet it was, actually.

The angles made by industrial buildings were stark against a very blue sky. Shadows had volume. There were distressed surfaces to love.

I came home utterly exhausted. Sewed. Ate an omelet. Took a bath. Now? Waiting for K to get home.

Before I go, though, this — we walked past the rehab center / nursing home that my sister spent ten days at last year. All those visits and I never noticed the “dead end” sign. Ha! You can just make it out below, faintly visible under a striping shadow.

She, actually, was the most exhausting part of my day. Fortunately for you, all the processing of a series of ugly, ugly moments went into my Daily Pages.