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| Sarah Webb |
So I’m learning to meditate, to become more mindful and aware of myself and the moments of my life. Doug and I are sitting in the backyard looking out over trees and yard stuff. We are not paying attention to the pretty sky or the breezy leaves because we are fizzing into an argument and I can feel my skin heat up and my eyeballs dry out. No, fire has not been known to escape my ears, but it sometimes feels like it could. I am not, at this point, capable of invoking the words of wisdom I so desperately want to learn. We are just hitting our high notes, when, very suddenly, a fox appears like a fur ball up on the fence. We are speechless and immediately quiet with wonder. A fox? What’s he doing, where’s he going, how long will he stay? The argument from seconds ago has evaporated; I still barely have a memory of it. Aw, shoot, now that I wrote that I remember the fight and I’m all sweaty again. I need that fox, where is he? That fox really had a way of snapping us out of it. Our attention turned to watching the fox as it navigated the fence line until it came to an old oak tree. It looked up into the branches and jumped. Wow. It jumped up into a tree house platform Doug had built years earlier. It sat there for the longest time observing its aerial view. Next time I’m frustrated I’m gonna call that fox to hurry up and come back to the tree house in my mind. Maybe it will help me snap out of it.
About Sharon Meloy
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