Weekdays

I woke up today thinking it was Thursday. I planned my day for a Thursday. Today is Friday. The last time I remember being this disoriented was in high school, when the summer smushed into one long weekend. Instead, I’ve had a month of weekdays.  I need some wins.

The little island is chugging along.  The new class of volunteers swears in on Wednesday, and on Thursday I get my green card.  There is a lot going on, and I’m trying to be present for it all—good and bad.  There is a lot of good: the sweet neighbor who gives me bags of bananas and bread; the quickie-mart owner who knows I like avocados and eggplant; the dozens of smiles and “hola” ‘s when I walk anywhere; long phone calls with volunteers; the weird chickens that don’t have feathers on their necks and look like dinosaurs; bizcocho (Dominican cake), and people who give you bizcocho. I think I’ll focus on those things, even though they mostly consist of food or things that will soon be food. I will also take pictures.    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is the horse that sometimes eats my front yard at night. It may or may not be a ghost.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dusk from my front porch, through the bars.

Power lines at night.