All summer on Sutton Island we have listened to the tscha-GUNG of nail guns and the brrrrrrrr of earthmovers. Major renovation is underway next-door. This morning, at our inland home, I woke up to the beep-beep-beep of backing-up trucks and the whishhhh of air brakes along the edge of our property. The public works department is reaming out a drainage channel.
This seems to be my life this summer, under construction. Virtually every Earthling’s life, in fact, is under construction. We are renovating, reaming out, rebooting, reallocating resources, realigning goals under new building codes imposed by the pandemic. No one knows exactly where they’re headed, what might happen, or when they’ll reach an end point. Maybe that’s always true, but we feel it more this year.
With the close of my blog challenge, no teaching job ahead, my construction work continues. What will life be, moving forward, age 60? Will I reframe a robust writing career? Construct independent teaching jobs? Build volunteer time for people and projects in need?
I hear Mary Oliver’s voice:
“What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 364: 188 words, TOTAL = 59,628; 372 remaining
Robin Clifford Wood is a writer and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband and dogs, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her grown children and their multi-species families.