Archive for November, 2020

Election Day and Jesse Girl

It was Tuesday morning after an anxious Monday…stressful months.

So many things have happened so far in this year of 2020…

…lies revealed, viruses emerged, taxes not filed, bountied soldiers’ lives not acknowledged, quarantines served…

…promises broken, tallies marked, masks unworn, lives lost, children caged, families torn, secrets revealed…

alliances broken, and real heroes scorned.

Sometimes it hurts to pay attention.

My morning commute down quiet streets, following taillights…

…watching the eastern sky gray into dawn, encountering silhouette cityscapes of buildings…

power lines, and ubiquitous palm trees.

Others heading in the same direction, south on Central Avenue…the light rail…bicyclers…

…a far off desert “mountain” that defines the lower edge of the Valley of the Sun.

Art museum, opera, loft apartments, pharmacies, coffee shops, attorney general office, city athletic club…parking meters…

…cameras watching to see who steals through a light….

Heading east now and ever approaching my destination, passing charter schools, groceries, fast food, temp agencies…

…ever present construction zones…and hospitals.

My bride and I ate lunch at this city park decades ago…when our children were little and life was difficult, though less complicated….

I could go straight and then left and reach the office…or I could get on the freeway and go somewhere else…head west, then north and away.

When I found a pedestrian bridge on an evening walk in Utah, a local spray-can artist had adorned the walkway with “Seek Life.”

Looking west from the bridge…contemplating the day…desiring that it fulfills hopes…that more ballots are cast for my guy than the other….

An overhead ornament on the bridge…a simple thing in a complicated time.  Breathe….


On a Desert Morning

My morning today, November 1, was spent in part at my desk, reading and looking at images from friends’ blog posts across the country…with the office window open only inches away from me…cool autumn breeze slightly chilling my fingertips, with my cat lying next to the laptop with his nose and front paws occasionally touching the window’s screen as he intently watched the birds on the ground outside, or freezing to an unusual kitty stiffness as hummingbirds approached the honeysuckle a foot away from his twitching whiskers.

Sunrise eight months ago…a Sunday morning in March.