There were two dogwood trees in my front yard as a kid, a delightful contrast to the nine, sappy pine trees scattered around. One was bifurcated at the base, but otherwise grew straight up, only small, thin branches sprouting from the top of its two trunks.
The other had broad, thick branches stretched out, starting a couple feet off the ground. Its bark was worn smooth in a handful of spots from all the times my brother and I had climbed it. It was a great tree for climbing. It didn’t take us long to find the right combination of moves to reach its top: a foot here, hand there, grab this branch, swing around here. (more…)
I had a rare experience a couple weeks ago. It happened as I was pulling up to the Starbucks drive-thru. I aimed Luna (my car) into the narrow lane and was thrilled to see there wasn’t a line. The sun was shining, a light breeze was ruffling the trees. A wonderful day.
And then I realized — I had no idea what I wanted.
I always know what I want. I consider it before I leave the apartment. I know whether it’s an iced coffee or hot coffee kind of day. After I decide that, I cycle through my favorite options and find the right one to fit the day. And then I rehearse it in my mind because it usually has over four words. (What can I say? I’m complicated, and so is my coffee.)