Saturday

Saturday has always been a good day for me. The work is over for a time and focus turns to each other. It occurred to me today that in the current very-different state of affairs that Saturday hasn't changed. We still sleep a little longer and eat a little slower. We go to the market or the thrift store, and almost always look at flowers somewhere. It's pleasant, this meandering. Today at the market the physiotherapist's words echoed in my ears: you need a cane. Huh? Me? I've noticed a few times that I would feel better with a little support. There is no wall at the market after all.  My gimpy hand also reminds me that I need a bag to carry things in comfortably, and I need a wallet that's easy to get to.  The potter who I spoke with saw my difficulty and kindly offered assistance. I'm glad she did but oh,  I wish it wasn't so noticeable.  The tea guy did too. The fellow who makes walking sticks knew exactly what I need and offered custom work to provide it.  Maybe I'll start developing a singular persona of My Style. Color,  crazy hair,  cane,  home made bags,  funky skirts...... I could do that. Then I would be a character,  not sick. I wonder if I could pull it off?

As I listened to the band play at the market I was brought back to my youth. Jazz was everything at the time  and my trumpet was my passport. I loved performing!  A melancholy so huge falls on me it's as if the sun no longer shines. I come home and listen to my current favorites and cry that my fingers will no longer fiddle.  I'm so sad about that I don't know what to do except keep listening and let the music fix me. Then God speaks peace and I'm ok again. Will I ever hear and not feel bad, I wonder?

Gifts are many: wonderful new flowers at bargain prices,  freebies,  warm sun,  sweet chatter from a wee girly full of zest and curiosity,  kind words, good music,  good food....   It's endless. I hope I look rightly.