I know I slowed down on hitting “publish” but I was here all along, writing. Here is something I wrote in 2022, I think. Or maybe 2023.
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I feel like there has been a theme to my life for the past few years. Of existing in place. Of slowing way down. It began in 2018 when whatever bodily pains I experienced (and typically attributed to excellent aerobics classes at the gym) became so pronounced it occurred to me to bring it all to the attention of my doctor and I was introduced to the concept of Rheumatoid Arthritis. While awaiting my specialist appointment, Andrew and I went to Guatemala, a trip during which my typically speedy momentum became, quite suddenly, a glacial amble. While this concerned me, I was grateful to discover that a slowed pace allowed me to notice details I’d otherwise have missed.
Then, yes, the pandemic shunted us all into our own private spaces. Having just moved to a downtown condo, however, I still felt able to safely be around people… by sitting on our third-floor balcony. I’ve long loved being able to sit still, alone, unseen, observing, and this perch facilitates this lifestyle. I’ve seen many things from up here. This morning it’s the sound of the rain, birdsong calling and echoing across the treetops, the wind in the evergreens as they sway, the ripples on accumulated water, the bunny that lives under the nearest tree, who likes to forage in the early hours, the scent of the earth, exposed after a long snowy season.
Also. My friend was told she had cancer. It was not going in a good direction. It was during a pandemic when I was unsure at all times if I was an asymptomatic carrier and felt the best way to be her friend was to not accidentally give her Covid. We had some visits through her window, and then she was gone. I thought about what it must be like to only ever remain there in a house.
Also. K.R. Byggdin’s first novel was just released, and at the virtual book launch, they discussed the idea of writing about places you know, well. Places you could walk in your sleep.
I think I know Steinbach, but I don’t really know it. I only know the parts I engage with. Main Street businesses. The museum. My church, my coworkers, my friends, family, and fellow condo-dwellers. Oh, and whomever I encounter at The Public, of course. But that’s it. There are whole other worlds that exist here, that I know nothing about. I’ve seen glimpses on social media, read fleeting local news stories about them. I suppose these are worlds I don’t want to know about.