To save myself from the icy slip-and-slide adventure my path has become, I sprinkle wood ashes every day. Mostly, I clutch the rope rail, and pull myself along. It's about to be spring again.
Yesterday was the day when an asteroid came close to the earth, and a meteor hit the earth. I don't remember anything like this happening before. I happened to enter a waiting room with a television mounted in the ceiling corner, just as a newscaster announced a 2-minute countdown to the large asteroid that was hurtling toward the earth. How did I miss this? I rarely see t.v. and thought, so this is what they're up to now, scaring the public with destruction from outer space, as if we aren't already afraid enough of the uncertain future. In the waiting room, no one seemed to be paying the least attention.
Then there were commercials. What in the world would people need in the aftermath of the asteroid collision? Floor swiffers, apparently. Well, we could reasonably expect an increase in dust. Anti-anxiety meds, a bit late for that. How many minutes had passed now? At least three, I thought, then it was back to the asteroid story, the countdown down to the wire. Ten seconds until oblivion? And then it had safely passed. No one took notice of this near miss, either. They were still waiting, apparently, for something more definitive.
A woman sitting in a wheel chair next to her husband, who was texting, suddenly said, to him,
"Did I tell you I got a call from Joe yesterday? He got my valentine. I only put $20 in it. He's never called me before."
The husband answered, "Well, he doesn't have family of his own."
She said, "After he helped us move, maybe that broke the ice."
Fragments. A piece of pink wool from Jo, my Jo. It was a bit of the softest pink wool, with a small constellation of moth holes across the trapezoid scrap, a bit of a piece of a coat her mother had bought her when she was a little girl, that she's kept so many years. This year, she divided it up, and made her Valentines.