Obviously I’m not outrunning and outsmarting saber-tooth tigers like my ancestors once did. But you can bet, once I realized I left my phone at home, my mind and body worked into a frenzied state just like I was a caveman.
Reach Dave through messenger? No. Go back home? No time; keep going. Be radio silent; no clients need to reach me through Google Voice. Google Voice on the web? Yes!
I arrived at work feeling in a survival-of-the-fittest kind of way that for sure my Neanderthal cousins would be scratching their heads.
Survival in 2022 sure looks weird. They might say.
Speaking of ancestors, I received a message from a man regarding my husband’s family’s genealogy . It was pretty cool connecting with him, and now I’m intrigued about jumping into my own gene pool.
Being a product of adoption, I’ve consistently felt protective of my parents. That they who showed up day in and day out, and did the work to get me where I am, I felt I owed them as much as possible.
However, developing a relationship with my birth mom a decade back broke this self-imposed rule.
So now, I’m curious.
Do I step into the unknown in order to see what there is to find?
Anyway, I miss green grass.
Although rain has yet to fall, the hose spills when I drag it to the garden, so at the ends of brown matchsticks are horsetail tufts of green blades.
Also, the mornings and evenings are hitting my senses in a way that is calming the edginess of summer. I feel like a husky that’s moved in a packing crate from California to Alaska, to a life that with a snap of the finger makes sense.
The transition to fall – the time right now – is just that for me; it makes sense.