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Wendy’s still out on leave at the Post Office, and it was Martha’s day off. I had never seen the woman behind the counter before. The sign on the counter read Sally Ann.
It was an easy transaction. Only four 9×11 stuffed envelopes with tote bags and potholders in them. One going to Laura in Canada. I saved it for last because it involves extra paper work.
“Now I’m going to be singing the Canadian National Anthem in my head all day”, Sally Ann said to me. “Oh,” I winced, “I’m sorry”. But it wasn’t a bad thing. Sally Ann said she loved singing it, and thought it was very beautiful.
So I asked her if she would sing it for me, that I had never heard it before.
If I expected anything it was that she’d sing a line or maybe hum the tune. But she agreed and started to sing.
We stood facing each other across the counter and in a soft and pretty voice, she sang the whole Canadian National Anthem.
I could feel her love of the song, she sang it with such quiet emotion. I felt myself getting choked up, my eyes starting to fill. Such I miracle I thought, to be sung to at the Post Office. (I’m not sure how the man in line behind me felt)
Sally Ann is not Canadian. She learned the National Anthem when she used to watch her brother play hockey at RPI.
“Now you can tell your friend her package was sent off with the Canadian National Anthem”, she said to me.
This is how it can work, I thought. Like connecting the dots across borders. Art, music, sports. From Canada to the US and back to Canada again. Laura and me and Sally Ann. Forming the points where the strands of the web connect, bringing us all closer together even if just for a little while.
I got this scene in the Subway in New York this morning. I usually don’t take pictures when we to to the city but I saw this one and couldn’t resist.
Jon and I were visiting his daughter Emma, her husband, Jay and Robin, their new baby. I don’t think of myself as Robin’s step-grandmother, even though that’s what I am. I did enjoy holding her and making her smile. We seemed pretty comfortable together.
I sold out of my last tote bags quickly and a few people asked for more. So I made some today. I thought this one was especially joyous.
Last night I left the gate open to the back pasture, so this morning the animals weren’t waiting for us as usual. They came quickly when they saw us and the dogs, knowing we’d be bringing them hay.
It’s a secret language and I’m fitting the pieces of the puzzle together. I move the fabric around and it slides into place. I read it with my body, not my mind. I don’t know what it says, just that it says what I want to say. I don’t know why, I just know when it’s right. So many pieces to choose from. How do I pick the ones that I do? It only makes sense in terms of me trusting myself and acting on it.
You thought you had it all figured out then one day you go to the dentist and you can’t stop crying. You were made to feel so bad about yourself, you’re sure it’s your fault. Then you put the pieces together and they tell you something different. It’s all slightly off. Out of balance. Off kilter. Out of whack. It begins to make sense. And you create something beautiful.
Minnie on her throne of hay, in the barn.