From Comfort of Crows
Two hours later, after helping with a unit on the Harlem Renaissance, I was humming as I walked back to my car. I wasn't thinking about the cataclysmic state of my country. I was thinking about the bright, funny students I'd met in a class for English language learners. I was thinking about Bessie Smith singing "St. Louis Blues." But when I started my car, the radio came on, offering the usual news summary that opens each hour's programming.
Two red lights later, my happiness was gone.
That's how my vow of resistance finally yielded to the appeal of retreat.
When I came to the third light, I turned left instead of continuing through it, and I drove to a little park in the woods where I often walk. There wasn't time before work to take the lake trail, my favorite path, but I walked as far as the dam and sat for a bit to watch a great blue heron fishing in the clear water. I listened to the invisible songbirds high in the treetops, and I watched the cold turtles climbing slowly onto fallen branches to warm themselves in the grace of a sunny day in January. For a few minutes, it was enough. (27)
On This Day (11/26):
No comments:
Post a Comment