Going to the mailbox

Today, for the first time in about three months, I walked to the mailbox. My progress was slow and meditative, and I was accompanied the whole way by three attentive cats. It felt like a ceremonial journey, complete with dignified attendants. After that trip, I strolled slowly to the west edge of our shelter belt, hoping to stand beside the maples look over the slopes of soybeans. This is one of my favorite places. A pile of rocks marks what must have been the old barn, and a few big old lilacs stand in memory of some older configuration of the farm. It’s a secluded place, and unless your view is blocked by tall corn, you can look out over an enormous, dipping green landscape.

I couldn’t see the landscape though. Weeds have grown too tall along the edge of the shelterbelt. I had expected everything would look the same as it did in early June, but of course a whole summer unfolded in this special place without my seeing it, and everything green has been growing taller. So the cats and I turned our procession toward the house.

It will be surprising to visit many places again, after the birth. I am not completely looking forward to it, especially as I remember how I felt after the births of my two children. I felt like a baby learning about the world all over again, and like a baby, I was ready to shout and burst into tears when overwhelmed. Trying to drive a car, I had to constantly remind myself which information was important and which was not. A stop sign was important. A squirrel running up a tree trunk was not. It was exhausting. I had a long distance to cover before I could act like a normal grownup again.

This time around, I might have a greater distance to travel because I’ve been away from so many things for a long time. For the last three months, I haven't driven a car, gone shopping, earned money or visited anyone else’s home. I’ve gone for weeks seeing only faces that I already know. We don’t have a TV, and I have watched only one movie all summer. Seeing the wind moving in waves over the soybeans was the most notable experience of some days.

The air is colder now, though, and this summer is almost gone. Like all of the trees and plants I have been watching so carefully, I will change soon.