I leave the house in good time for a scheduled coffee date with a new friend downtown. When I get in the car, I see the bags we use for vegetables we harvest at the community garden in their space in the console and realize Gerry, who is down there working and harvesting, has nothing to put squash, cucumbers, and beans in. I look at the time. The garden’s on the way. I have time to stop and give him the bags.
So, I do, but he’s been resourceful and has bags of his own that are already filled and he’s watering. (See, the fact that he’s down there working and watering without me overseeing the operation is evidence of my lackluster garden mojo and, perhaps, also a lesson in learning to let go.)
I glance at the clock as I pull out of the garden parking lot, comfortable that I’ll be on time at the coffee shop, but as I near the intersection at the library I see the road is blocked off. It’s farmer’s market day. No worries. I make a left, thinking I’ll maneuver close enough to the coffee shop to park and—surprise!–road construction and a detour. Okay. Think.
Long story made short, I take the detour and cycle back, find a parking place relatively close to the coffeeshop and set off walking a couple of blocks, pausing at a parking meter to pay. The street noise seems especially loud. It’s a sharp contrast to the silence of home. And I think if it wasn’t for the opportunity of meeting with friends for coffee now and then I’d be tempted to become a hermit.
Anyway, I make it. With time to spare. And settle in for a couple hours of coffee and good conversation about life and writing (what a joy it is to have someone to talk about writing with!) and other random things. It’s time very well spent.
By the time I get home, Gerry’s left bags of vegetables on the kitchen counter that I wash and select which things to keep and which things to offer to neighbours. The day carries on with gratitude and thoughtful introspection as a result of the visit with my friend.
Perhaps I’m not quite ready for the hermit life just yet.