Give 10 seconds to wailing and gnashing of teeth and cursing such absence of mind.
On 11th second, turn face up to sun.
Initiate multiple voluntary deep breaths.
Turn attention to coffee and cantaloupe slice you DID remember to remove from car.
Reach for phone to catch at least home page of New York Times.
Experience familiar exasperation of reading news shoved into hellishly cramped space that used to be your morning newspaper.
Think better of reading; cast face back to sun.
Espy actual, hard copy local weekly newspaper lying about on next bench.
Note cover story on aging. (Synchronicity!) Decide to read it.
Note disappointment with story’s shallowness.
Vow to write something deep about aging one day.
Quickly acknowledge this will not be that day.
Climb on bike, which, unlike laptop, you had removed mindfully from rack at rear of car.
Pedal to nearby county museum, hoping for art-culture-history session to inspire blog post in lieu of ideas and research still proceeding down highway in laptop.
Espy hours of operation on museum door, consult watch, sigh…
Remount bike, proceed to ride aimlessly, awaiting inspiration.
Note thought: County library surely open!
Turn purposefully toward library four blocks on.
Feel heat-drained early spring sun on face, cool breeze on hands.
Enter library with zero notion where to proceed.
Decide to assemble small stack of media you never otherwise consult—Wall Street Journal, The American Conservative, Esquire.
Gaze at Esquire cover story with photo of imposing-looking man draped in massive animal fur coat: “The Winston Duke Era Begins Now.”
Note long-familiar feeling of being in world, but not always of it.
Seek cheap & easy lunch around corner on mini-restaurant row.
Note window flyer touting Chinese food $20 lunch special.
Wonder how & when cheap & easy lunch special got to be $20.
Settle for small $10 tabouleh dish down block.
Hop back on bike and pedal to park, crown jewel of local burg.
Consider age and self-preservation, leave bike at trailhead, proceed up rocky trail on foot.
Take multiple involuntary deep breaths to accompany uphill hike.
Arrive at mountain lake destination, lie down on skinny bench.
Turn face to sun, drift timelessly, dreaming of boats.
Take different downhill trail home.
Greet friend-with-laptop-in-daypack upon his return for previously planned Happy Hour.
Accept laptop, stash in bedroom, proceed with Happy Hour, dinner, conviviality.
Lie in bed gazing at ceiling, musing on life, unplugged.
Vow to explore the concept someday.
Check out this blog’s public page on Facebook for 1-minute snippets of wisdom and other musings from the world’s great thinkers and artists, accompanied by lovely photography.
Deep appreciation to the photographers! Unless otherwise stated, some rights reserved under Creative Commons licensing.
Elizabeth Haslam, whose photos (except for the books) grace the rotating banner at top of page.
Library books photo by Larry Rose, all rights reserved, contact: email@example.com
Lakeside photo by Andrew Hidas https://www.flickr.com/photos/andrewhidas/