A tip of the hat

Sometimes when I’m overwhelmed by the craziness that’s been my year, I turn on some music and listen to the words. I try to hear the message the writer set out to deliver. Today, it was Mat Kearney delivering the much-needed counseling. “Just because it’s pouring down, doesn’t mean we’re gonna drown.” I’m keeping my fingers crossed that he’s right. I no longer say that it can’t get any worse. That’s so last year. For a little extra good measure, I also try to do any little heart-happy kinds of things I can think of just to spite the deluge. I don’t care how high the water gets, I am not giving up today, people. I’m too damn stubborn.

From time to time, random people I interact with do something that helps keep the water from rising above my head. It’s amazing how often it’s happened since my world went all topsy-turvy. It’s as if the people I come in contact with know I need their help. In fact, it happened that very first day. But, that’s a story for another time. Right now I want to focus on what happened today.

I had to get an x-ray of my neck. The doctors seem to think my problem is stress related and, considering the load I’m carrying, I’m guessing they might be right. But as I left the office something truly charming happened. You know those tiny moments that most people miss because they’re too busy running too far, too fast, on the phone, planning dinner, getting the kids in the car, the dog to the vet, giving the report to the boss, all simultaneously? Well, I wasn’t on the phone. I wasn’t running. I was paying attention. I didn’t miss it.

On the other side of the line of grass that separates my doctor’s parking lot from the street is a bus stop. Sitting on the bench was a man with his back to me. He was maybe in his late 20s or early 30s and appeared to have some sort of chromosomal disorder. Anyway, he was extremely aware of things happening around him. Much more aware than your average Joe. I clicked my key fob to unlock the door of my car. As I opened it and started to step in, he turned and saw me. What he did next made my day, maybe my entire month. He stood up and raised his hat to me. I responded with a wave and a “hello” before getting in my car and driving away with a smile on my face.

This young man (when exactly did a 20 or 30-something guy become a young man in my brain?) has no idea how much his action meant to me. He doesn’t know how much I need to be acknowledged as a person these days. He doesn’t know what sort of crap has happened this year. Or that I was at the doctor to figure out if my neck issue is a simple fix or something more serious. And, the beauty is that it doesn’t matter what he knows about me. Nor does it matter if he does this to every woman on this side of Puget Sound. In that moment, we connected. As two people should connect. Isn’t that what life is all about?

It made me feel good. And, right now, I need things that make me feel good. Men tipping their hats, days in the city, bouquets of flowers. You get the idea. Nice things to make me forget the rain.

Speaking of rain, I know what’s coming. And, it’s coming soon. It’s been so sunny and glorious in the Pacific Northwest that I almost forgot about the near constant drizzle that is winter here. The thick blanket of gray, uniform in color and devoid of any definition, with clouds so low you feel like you might hit your head on them if you stand up straight. There’s a reason Seattle weather forecasters use the term “sun break”. Let me assure you folks, they’re not talking about a break from the sun. I once lived through more than thirty consecutive days here in which I, not only didn’t see the sun, but also never saw anything even slightly reminiscent of sky.

I’m prepared. I knew what I was signing us up for when we returned. It’s ok. Really. But, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to worship the sun every chance I get from here on out. So, when we woke up to beautiful blue skies on Sunday, we hopped on the ferry and headed into the city for the first time since our return.

Ah, Seattle, how I’ve missed you. Funny enough, we weren’t really there to do city things. We were there looking for something more commonly found at a farmers market than in a city center. I needed two pounds of basil for my basil freezer cubes. Last year I needed four pounds, but I don’t anticipate quite as much variety in my cooking these days.

So, at this point you might be asking, why did you head into the city instead of the countryside? The answer is simple. Seattle has the mother of all farmers markets located just a few blocks from the ferry. You may have heard of it. Pike Place Market. It’s where they throw the fish. Seven days a week, 363 days a year. No Thanksgiving. No Christmas. It also happens to be where you can buy all sorts of lovely things like fresh produce, flowers, crafts, and marijuana paraphernalia.

I didn’t actually see any pot for sale, mind you. But I didn’t look very hard. It wasn’t on my grocery list. I also didn’t buy any basil. I did see some and it looked nice, but there wasn’t enough and I like to make all of my flavor cubes at one time. I decided to wait until I found more. We had fun anyway, even without the basil. Or the pot.

We watched them throw the fish. Let me tell you, that’s fun no matter how many times you’ve seen it. The fish guy on the spectator side of things almost didn’t catch one of them. He plucked it from the air a mere 6-inches before it would have slapped a woman across the face. Maybe they almost-miss on purpose. You know, to add a bit of zing to the sport. As if fish flying over our heads isn’t entertainment enough.

We walked past stall after stall of fresh produce. And I discovered that if someone ever wants to buy me a pretty gift they should go to the market. I wouldn’t mind one of the beautiful pendants we saw made out of jasper. The rock. Not my cat. There was one that reminded me of the Sandhills region of Nebraska.

I bought Mr. C some sticks of honey and myself a bouquet of dahlias. I rediscovered how cheap the flowers are in the northwest. And, I reveled in the joy of picking out my own. I get exactly what I want every time. Nice. A woman on the ferry asked if she could take a photo of them. She said someone had just asked her, minutes before, what color flowers she likes and she wanted to show them my bouquet. She said it was exactly what she would have chosen for herself.

“…there’s a time when all you can say, is let it rain.” Thanks, Mat Kearney, I’m working on it. We’re making it through this storm one bouquet, one day-trip, one tip of the hat at a time. We have no control over how long the storm is going to last or what’s going to happen next. No one does. No control, people. Give it up already. But, we do have control over how we rise above the rushing waters.