Full Day

I’ve had a full day.

My never-ending scrimmage with the trumpet-vine hedge that shelters and intimidates our back yard continues; with blade and badinage. I’m holding my own, but I sense the trumpet is initiating a new aerial assault. Five feet over my head, it now reaches for a trio of overhead wires running to the house. Unfortunately, ladders and I have a more dubious relationship since my recent bicycle face-plant, but I’ll have to respond somehow. Mere wit will not deter this charming and well-connected vine.

I completed a second covid-19 test this afternoon. It was another grueling five minutes and a sneeze to prepare for a regular medical procedure next week. By the way, if you haven’t been tested, quit being a child and do so. It’s free, it’s quick, and it’s the next right thing to do.

And yes, I wore a mask. If you’re not wearing one, quit being a child and do so. You don’t need a governor to tell you it’s the next right thing to do. Sheesh! Does he have to tell you to brush your teeth or to look both ways before you cross?

My Heidelberg scar – getting the epaulets tomorrow

Speaking of my bicycle disaster, the stitches are out and my face mostly healed (I’ll show you my Heidelberg Scar!), and now my new eyeglasses have arrived. I’m very excited. I can again read all the signs and chyrons, and pick out the stars and planets……and once more see exactly how lucky I am in marriage. The things you miss…

Our day-lilies are beginning to shout; “Rum Red!”, “Wild One!”, “Raspberry Pixie!”, “Stella d’Oro!”

The decadent hibiscus murmurs.

The begonias persistently party on, disregarding all social distancing.

The knockouts are giddy.

The hummers continue to criticize every recipe I concoct for them.

The frogs croak, the squirrels scold, the tupelos continue to silently amass power (to what eventual end…I shudder to think), the rabbits tease the hawks and are sometimes summarily punished for their sauciness…


…a full day…

…full of nothing in the face of the aches of the world.

…full of nothing in the aches of Mr. Floyd, Ms. Taylor, and Mr. Arbery.

…full of nothing in the shadow of Trump and McConnell and Putin.

But it’s my day. A day I’ve striven for…a full day.

But not really full. There’s something missing.


All of you.

Every one of you. Every color, tint, and shade. Every gender. Every flavor. Every size. Every accent.

Until everyone has a path to their full day, and feels physically safe in pursuing that day…my full day can never quite be.

Obviously the work is not done.

My full day…is not…


What’s the next right thing I must do?

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