A Tall Girl's Adventures in a Tiny World

Zippy is an old soul, I’m sure of it. Recycled. Determined to do better this time around. My sister is similar - always wise beyond her years, deep convictions, high anxiety, overthinking most decisions. I wonder, in fact, if anxious people are all recycled souls. Like perhaps we who are anxious know now, this time around, how harsh life can be, all the many ways we can be hurt physically and emotionally. (However, I wonder, too, if others of us, like me, are anxious because we haven't been here before and we don’t know what to expect? Hmm...may have to work on this theory.) I like the idea of souls recycling. Like perhaps when we leave this particular Earth Suit, our souls go through a cleaning process. Some might come back squeaky clean, without memory or experience stored away. But others come back with residue. Little bits of memory stuck on them, ground in. Jake does seem to be in touch with memories from another life. Remember how, when he was very little, he used to talk of ...

Today Honey's roommate in room 364 at Maine Medical Center was discharged. Some other day I'll tell you about why Honey is in the hospital again, but this story is about the roommate because it's way more interesting. Let's call him Elton, because all I really know about him is he plays guitar in an Elton John tribute band and he's originally from the very northern part of England, bordering Scotland. (Or as Honey described it, "that place in England where the Roman Empire decided, nope, those Celts are crazy, and put up a wall.") Elton was in room 364 before Honey arrived, and what struck me immediately, besides his delightful accent and soothing Liam-Neeson-esque voice, was his gentle, good-natured manner. He was going through heck from a botched surgery and compartment syndrome - pain and gore and fear of losing the use of his dominant hand - yet he spoke kindly and softly to every person who came into his room. Every time a nurse walked in, Elton gre...

I walk a lot. Walking is one of the pieces of my Portland lifestyle that I value most, in fact: countless trails, parks, paths, and sidewalks that not only get me where I need to be, but also show me woods and sea and proud old homes and all sorts of loveliness. (I also walk past a lot of not-so-lovely in this town each day, but we'll save that for another post.) Sometimes when I walk through a quiet neighborhood, like the one over here along Clifton Street in Back Cove, I feel envious of single-family homes and yards and kid-friends playing together in the driveway. Other times in these same neighborhoods, I feel grateful for the ample parking and snow removal of our rental home, as well as for landscapers who cut the grass and landlords who come to fix the kitchen lights or replace the dryer when it punks out. When I walk through Evergreen Cemetery, often I feel contemplative, peaceful; its consecrated ground and hundreds of years of history soothes me. Other times I feel sad and...