Across the streets, moms and dads pick up little boys who have been at practice. Lacrosse. Lacrosse! Had a snow storm here on April 15th. Watched the snow blow, whirl and dance around the rooftops and skyscrape of the downtown in The 'Kan EWA . Less than a week before Easter. It's spring but people in the neighborhood still walk in parkas and wool mittens and fleece hats. I just waved to a guy down on the sidewalk and he waved back and bellowed BRING ON SUMMER. Huge devilish grin...
I tell the story, lots, about the milkman who got up at 3 am for 37 years, delivered milk and was home by 11. Then taught himself, over a 37 year period, how to paint and now produces the most utterly stunning canvases of ghostly spectacles, people and chickens. He's the rave of the art world here and a luminary in my life. I have two of his pieces and I think about him everyday. I have never met him. I don't believe I need to.
I still have to explain to people about my thoughts on productivity, work product and inspiration. I still work and collaborate with some of this world's smartest people. Their ideas and the work we do together still race like colorful neon tubing though my thoughts and prayers and end up in my heart and my gut where I keep them so I can get to them when I need to. I search the faces at charitable benefits now for unlined, ungray smiles for the newspaper. It is a surprise to see the color of spring become a neutral palette this year and see these newly neutral hues populate my life.
Sunny comes by and with no hesitation, crawls up into my lap. Such honey. Such sublimity. Such dazzling, unneutral light. I let her play in the fire and we chat about what makes a good Easter gift. She's full of great ideas and insight. It's very cold but she's calm and easy in a t shirt and jeans. Bobby comes by on his way to the hockey game and is scared because Sunny waves a stick in the air that has a smoking, glowing end. The fire roars orange and gold now.
It becomes unnaturally quiet as the last kid is picked up and the people and families of my neighborhood go into their houses to eat dinner together. It's like the entire world here has paused and crystallized and is holding the pose for me to capture, record and keep for always with the weak, thin light of spring standing by as I shiver in the cold evening air.
Change is warming up in the bullpen. No doubt about it.
The 'Kan EWA