I think it all started with the cranes.
The slump, I mean.
The worst part is, I’m pretty sure I know when IT happened, whatever IT might be.
Because I remember seeing a crane fly out of the swamp, calling as it went, and thinking to myself that it was weird that one crane would fly off when there were babies. I’ve never known a crane to leave its baby’s side, except when one of the babies, who’d just learned to fly, flew into our yard and then cried all day until his parents found him. I’m pretty sure that was his own fault, got too big for his britches, thought he was fancy pants taking off for a flight on his own.
Anyway, in retrospect, I maybe should have listened when that crane sounded the alarm. I just never thought…
“I’ve been thinking about tromping around in the swamps, to see if I can find the murder scene,” I told J.
“If that’s what happened, whatever got them probably dragged them far away from here.”
“Maybe not, though, there’s a lot of beak and legs.”
“Don’t do it, hon,” he said, “its better just to wonder.”
I don’t know if it’s better or not, but I haven’t done it yet.
Sometimes in the distance I hear cranes, and I think maybe they are last year’s babies, who came back with their parents but then relocated at nesting time. Or maybe they’re mine, spending the summer somewhere else, safe.
I guess I’ll find out next Spring.
So that was the start, I think.
Then, I stopped playing my violin. Someone made a comment about my playing that made me feel like I better not play another note without some lessons, although admittedly I might be being a little hard on myself because I am aware I play like a third grader and that person maybe was not. “The day the music died”, I’ve been calling it, but only in my head. And now here. Don’t tell anyone, ok? I’m sure I’ll get back to it, I’m “just not feeling it” right now.
I got offered an amazing opportunity at work. It’s a talent swap program, and out of thousands of employees only sixty were chosen as eligible, and I was one of them.
I can’t do it, of course.
Not only am at a pivotal point in my current project, I can’t just up and move to another country for six months. There are people I love in this one.
I’m happy I was offered the opportunity but also a little sad that it didn’t happen a long, long time ago. And how depressing to think that I’m at an age and place where the world is no longer my oyster.
I know, I’m being super dramatic.
Anyway, the slump.
I tried to cook my way out of it. I made lots of meals, messed up a chocolate cake, made some corn dip and tried a new lemon butter sauce recipe for the salmon. I’ve always found that making something from scratch is therapeutic. I especially like making homemade noodles by hand, slicing the dough with a pizza cutter, one by one.
Maybe I should have made noodles because I cooked a lot but didn’t feel any better.
And then, my friend Lisa, who got The Call about her mom a while back, said goodbye to her mom for the last time this week. The funeral was today.
That was not a good slump breaker.
But as always, tomorrow’s another turn at bat, and maybe, at last, I’ll reconnect, and come out the other side, slump free.
In the meantime- thanks for listening.