Remember the most
famous line from the prose poem, Desiderata:
“Go placidly amidst the noise and the haste . . .” Most days, now that I’m
retired and only semi-mobile, that’s what I feel I do. I see others, even my
retired contemporaries, who are always behind, always worrying about being
overloaded, always stressed. I set my own deadlines, so the only pressure is
self-imposed, and I’m good at avoiding that. Usually.
Not today. To
begin, my day started much earlier than usual, well before seven in the
morning. I was to be ready to leave at 8:30 for the school run to drop Jacob
off, then a hurried grocery trip to Central Market, all in time to make a 10:15
doctor appointment. It started off badly because, though I was ready, we didn’t
leave until 8:50. Jordan’s missing wallet caused the delay, but it was finally located.
Then we hit every red light, every snarl of school traffic.
Got to Central
Market and Jordan started to pull a motorized cart out where it would be easier
for me to get into. It was a new model, and she couldn’t make it work. Frustrated,
she tried one of the older models, but it dragged the newer one with it. Conquered
that, headed for the vegetables, and I almost ran down the same lady twice.
Somehow that lady and Jordan reached for new potatoes simultaneously or
something. Next thing I knew, I was watching the two of them picking up tiny
potatoes from everywhere. While I sat.
At this point,
Jordan turned to me and said, “I believe the Lord is telling us to slow down.”
Our frantic
shopping came to a grinding halt when my motorized cart ran out of juice. There
I was, stranded in the cheese department. The cheese monger called for a new
cart, but I sat there in solitary splendor for a while. Central Market profited
just a bit, because I impulse-bought some salami and cheese that was handy to
where I was. A new cart arrived, and we finished our shopping.
The doctor
appointment was one of those where you wait for the doctor to ask what’s
bothering you, you say nothing, and he says everything’s fine and he’ll see you
in three months. And you’ve spent an hour and a half waiting to hear that.
Believe me I was
glad to get back to my cottage, away from the noise and haste.
Tonight, a
peaceful, relaxing dinner with an old friend, both of us ex-wives of
osteopathic physicians, both of us mothers of kids who grew up together. But
these days we don’t talk old times much. Our talks are blessedly forward
looking, and I am grateful for that. A pleasant evening. And, oops, I forgot
all about the lemon juice when I served the lentil soup. It was still good. I
put a dollop of sour cream in mine.
Peace, my friends.
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