My travel plans changed this morning. Ginger is not yet over her bronchitis and, well, for several reasons it makes sense to wait a week to go to Birmingham, not the least of which is Ginger and Ella can go with me. About the time I was deciding whether or not to go today, the phone rang and a blogging friend called to ask me to go see his construction business partner who fell yesterday on the job and broke a leg and both wrists; he is at Duke Medical Center. Barbara Crooker, a poet I’ve quoted a couple of times lately, is also reading there today.
We are a week away from closing on the sale of our house in Marshfield and, if all goes well, about a week and a half away from closing on the purchase of a house here in Durham. Needless to say, I’ve got plenty to do around here. Staying is not such a bad thing. The hardest part is shifting gears from how I thought the weekend was going to go to how it actually needs to play out. That shift always takes me a little while. As much as I like to see myself as spontaneous, once I get a plan in my mind I have a hard time letting go of it. I know my destination and I know how to get there, thank you very much.
The destination is still Birmingham, for all the reasons I mentioned in last night’s post. I had my itinerary all worked out: straight down the interstate, get it done, get back home. But I’m not traveling alone. As much as I know that, I need to be reminded – often.
Peace,
Milton
Divine interruptions.
Later-Tom