20 minutes with Delia
neighborhood
7 degrees / feels like 4
Winter! Heading north, an arctic wind, but otherwise, not bad. Warm sun, no snow. I love being outside and moving. A thought: I should commit to doing one or two long-ish walks each week to somewhere. The library? A coffee place?
10 Things
- dead, brown leaves on top of a pile of crusty snow
- a high-pitched, quiet whine from a truck on the next block
- the bare, gnarled, tall branches of the oak tree on the corner
- 2 green dumpsters on the sidewalk outside of Turtle Bread
- almost stumbling as I stepped on a small rock or hard chunk of snow
- a neighbor on the next block having an animated conversation with the mailman
- bark! — Delia the dog unexpectedly barking at them from across the street
- bark! bark! bark! — a dog in a backyard calling out to Delia
- the tree on the corner across from the Blue Door — dead, most of it trimmed away, more than a stump with a few dead branches still remaining
- the sun! heading south, warming my face and making it difficult to see if anyone was approaching
While tagging old entries with “remember/forget,” I came across Emily Dickinson’s poem about forget-me-nots on 2 march 2021, which helped me to remember that I was thinking about it — vaguely — as I ran yesterday!
There are spaces for living
and spaces for forgetting.
Sometimes they’re the same.
(Voiceover/ Rita Dove)