The closest thing I have to a meditation practice is lap swimming. In order to keep track of my lengths, I focus on the numbers by association.
13: adolescence, teenage angst – is that why it’s bad luck?
17: Strangely, Sam on the high school soccer field.
18: A quarter done.
22: Couple o’ ducks! The refrain from our summer Bingo callers for I-22, their long, tanned legs swinging from the wooden counter where they sit.
23: Childhood underwater rhyming game that finished with “23-skiddoo!”
26: My father-in-law’s birth year, birthday, and age at marriage.
28: My birthday.
29: My cousin Elaine’s birthday, one year and a day after me.
30: Age of a lot of my kids and in-laws right now.
33: Jesus’s reputed age at death. I sing Godspell songs in my head.
39: Three times thirteen.
49: Mom in the old kitchen with turquoise, formica backsplash. She made up songs to help me memorize my times tables, “seven times seven is forty-nine, if the clouds come out then the sun won’t shine”
54: Dad’s historic class at Yale, baseball caps, football games (also ¾ done!).
60: What I’ll be soon.
64: I sing the Beatles’ song.
66: I sing Route 66.
69: not telling
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 69: 210 words, TOTAL = 11,444; 48,556 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.