Home Again, Take 2
Back on Fork Mountain, I am greeted by a lone doe about twelve feet from the porch, flapping her ears and munching on wild grasses. She stands firmly on the side of the mountain, hind legs braced into the rock, neck stretching gracefully into a patch of green. The sunlight is golden on her back, then gone altogether with the passing of a cloud. Below her, the slope is dappled with at least ten different kinds of wildflowers that I can see from my perch. The garden is now overgrown, the jewelweed along all the pathways at least three to four feet tall, Virginia creeper stretching it’s tawny fingers up the sides of a buckeye tree. Behind me, I hear the ever-present gush of the spring, overflowing down the sides of the mountain. Before I left for Oregon, the water was visible from the porch. Now, I mark it only by sound as the plants have completely taken over the slopes.
Inside, there is a phone message blinking on the machine. Two hang-ups and then a message from Cass. I play it several times and don’t call back.
My parents helped me “move back in” after nine days at their house crutching around. Maneuvering the steps from the gravel drive down to the house was quite a task, but now that I’m in, I’m in. I’ve been given use of Dad’s truck for a week, which I’ll use to get the mail and in case of an emergency. Otherwise, I’m on lockdown until I start work again the week following this one. About once a day I fall into despair over immobility, money, and the lethargy I feel at a loss to fend away. The rest of the time I do homework, try to stretch and heal my joints, or email writerly friends about matters of craft. I have everything I need and even though summer is halfway over before I feel it has even begun, I need to take this in stride. The outside of my ankle, after all, bent full at the joint and touched down to the ground beyond a 90 degree angle. I’m about as lucky as they get, by any ligament’s standards, and my boss is wise and kind and keeping my employed.
No right to complain. Breath. Focus. Have another glass of wine. Try to get as much work done as possible because, as if this hadn’t reminded me enough, you never know what’s coming next.