Thursday, I packed the remaining odds and ends from my D.C. apartment–broom, jacket, lamp, shampoo, toothpaste etc.–and headed just a little bit West to Harpers Ferry, West Virginia to set up camp.
A thrill shimmies up my spine when I drive across the Potomac and then the Shenandoah rivers, past the battlefield where the Union suffered a terrible defeat at the start of the Civil War and where I now walk my dog every evening meeting new neighbors and listening for ghosts, to arrive at the yellow rental with the red door in Bolivar (my town, literally a stone’s throw from better-known Harpers Ferry).
So, it’s okay to have another change, just shy of a year leaving Sacramento, a settlement at the confluence of two of my other favorite rivers, the American and the Sacramento, a vibrant valley city that for 10 years made a place for me, my poetry and yoga, and remains full of friends, teachers, colleagues and students I think on every day. Thank you.
It’s okay to have another change after being welcomed last April by the beautiful glass and brass doors of my D.C. apartment building perched like a mighty gryphon along Rock Creek’s Klingle Creek.
So many good things happened there in such a short time.
Most of them logged on this blog. Thank you, students. Thank you, friends. Thank you, readers.
During the transition from D.C. to West Virginia, this copper tea kettle was my anchor. That same kettle lived in a dozen homes throughout California before crossing the country last year. It sat in D.C. on this plain white range and heated water for countless cups of coffee and green tea.
The oven timer on the range has been my meditation buddy. It’s simple to use and provides a helpful one-minute warning.
Situated on my zafu I’d hear, “ding!” and refresh my posture, staying with it for 60 more seconds.
Prepping for a yoga class, I’d set the timer to provide a reminder to roll up the mat and hop the L2 bus, or speed up the stairs to the conference room for chair yoga, or hightail it up the hill to my students in Glover Park.
A memo slipped under my apartment door conveyed that building management is remodeling the apartment’s kitchen. This range is destined for the dump. Thank you, range, for granola, chocolate chip cookies, kale chips, savory mushrooms, roasted potatoes, sweet potato fries and cornbread.
Good-bye, timer. Thank you for watching the clock.
The kettle’s whistling on another range now.