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| Reflections. |
FREEZING TEETH. I am thankful for freezing teeth. What in the world does that mean, you ask? It means that there are times when I smile with such authentic joy and appreciation of the moment, and the environment I'm in is so cold, that my teeth, exposed as they are in their silly grin to said cold, feel like they are starting to freeze.
I noticed it for the first time a few weeks ago. It was a busy day and I decided to let a few things on the to-do list slide in order to get outside. J had inflated the stand up paddle board again (we'd stashed it for winter and then decided that with dry suits and a big beautiful ocean bay outside our door, that was a bit hasty) and I had just enough day light to paddle to Tonsina Point and back. The moment I stood on the board I noticed how clear the water was. I suppose it's always fairly clear but this day was insanely calm, the water was like glass, and because the sun is so low in the sky at this time of year, the shoreline mountains were casting a shadow on the water; without a glare, I could see down to the bottom with ease. I don't usually paddle out too deep but I did that day, just to see how deep I could see... I got to what looked like 50+ feet based on the decreasing size of the rocks and sea stars and then got a little spooked and paddled closer to shore. It felt like walking on water, gliding along, watching fish and barnacles and mussels and anemones and bat stars and kelp swaying beneath me. Determined waterfalls cascaded down the seaside cliffs, harbor seals popped up to investigate my wake, and I felt my teeth starting to freeze.
With all the cold, our lakes and ponds have firmed up with incredible ice. Sewardites are loading skates into the backs of their cars in hopes of sneaking a turn or two around the local pond, "Second Lake," after school or work... or maybe driving a bit farther to one of the larger lakes at the base of a mountain on a weekend. That's when I felt my teeth freeze for the second time - we'd stopped at Trail Lake on the way back from Homer, our first skate of the season. The sun was setting and the ice was a mirror and J and Indigo and I were all swooping about, getting steadier on our feet. And my teeth... Honestly, I didn't realize I was smiling so much until the cold started to permeate the enamel and I almost got that ice cream headache feeling.
REALIZATION. Back in college, on the very last day of school actually, the last day of classes before graduation, I was spotted standing on the Green, paused before crossing the street. I honestly don't remember who saw me... in my mind, they texted to tell me, but that can't be right... it was 20 years ago! Perhaps they emailed? Or called? Or maybe I just ran into them, a few hours or days later, in a real face to face interaction. Anyway, this person said that I had the most serious, contemplative, reflective, maybe even devastated look on my face. And they wondered why. I remember why, and I told them at the time: I was insanely happy. I felt like I was on top of the world. There I was, about to graduate from a respected college in a first world country. I had a clever mind and a working body and ideas that could fill a book and a loving family and every gift one could hope for as a spring board to launch into the adult world... Simply, I was too lucky. And I knew that the world didn't work that way. Statistically, I couldn't possibly sustain that kind of happiness... the kind of happiness based largely on circumstance. So there I was, at the edge of the Dartmouth Green, figuring that I would probably be hit by a car if I crossed the road. If not a car right then, then something... something that would smash me back to the reality of the challenges faced by most humans on the planet. At that moment, poised on a multi pointed edge of happiness and appreciation and realization and fear and awe, someone saw my face and all it contained.
The reason I bring up that moment is this: This past weekend, we were, like many local folks, skating on Second Lake. The ice was so perfect you could see through it to objects in the water below, like an old ceramic mug, 1970's beer cans, a pair of disintegrated jeans (?!?), even a muskrat swimming beneath the frozen top. J and I were on one end of the lake when we heard the tell-take holler of a fallen skater... "Mama!" It turned out to be Indigo, splayed out on the far side of the lake, with just that sort of tone to her cry that made us skate a bit faster to reach her. Indeed, she had fallen backward, landed on her right arm, and as an ER visit confirmed, broken it. Fast forward to the following morning. Up a bit early, I heated the oven with a plan to throw some cinnamon rolls in for a leisurely stay-at-home breakfast. Indigo wandered upstairs, splint and all, and we cuddled on the couch. Suddenly the kitchen started making all sorts of banging and clattering noises, almost like large rodents were in our cabinets. Zigzag perked up and crept around the corner to investigate, with Indigo and me on his tail. Instead of R.O.U.S.s, we found bright sparks flying from the oven, smoke billowing, and increasingly loud cracks and pops of an electrical fire. The heating element in our old oven had fallen apart and the electricity was arcing between the gap, a kitchen and house fire waiting to take hold.
We are fine. Indigo's break appears to be of the quick healing sort, a classic kid fracture that 4 weeks in a brace will begin to heal. The old oven has been yanked out and brought to the transfer station, and with the help of a few friends and an electrician, a new oven from the local building supply company has been installed just in time to cook some Thanksgiving goodness. We managed to dodge a few of this first world country's bullets, shot at us rapid fire.
THANKFUL. So once again, I find myself on the proverbial edge of the Dartmouth Green, pausing before I cross the street. But this time I am not paralyzed as I reflect on the precariousness of this life. Instead, I smile. I appreciate every little ounce of luck and circumstance and earned happiness I've got, and I grin. Because life will take unexpected twists and turns no matter what. And it is a gift to have moments when we find ourselves freezing our teeth.
Happy Thanksgiving.
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