someone else's blues

...when I woke up this morning
I must've had someone else's blues
I swear I don't know why....

Someone Else's Blues, David Bromberg, from Wanted: Dead or Alive


Yep. That's me. I'm sitting here on a Friday night, alone, and low low low. hobbitt is attending a kitemaker's retreat at Fort Worden, getting together with old, long-time friends and otherwise enjoying his artistic self. I love that.

I had MG class today. Water quality and vegetable gardening. In the middle of the afternoon session, a young woman whom I'll call Kirsten (because that is indeed her name) popped in the meeting room and dropped an envelope on the table in front of me. I was rather sleepy, the room being all kinds of warm and oxygen-free and all, so I was a bit slow on the uptake. I turned to face her, and she winked at me and high-tailed it out of the room.

She's been missing in action for the past few weeks. I liked her - she was a spitfire, and younger than the average master gardener training attendee (the average being somewhere in the mid-50's, I think). She came back here to have lunch one day early on, and talked a little about herself: a child, living with its father far away, who was better able to provide a stable life; work as a bartender in Pete; having come here because this is where her folks moved. There is a sadness about her eyes, though her voice and demeanor are spirited and fun and inviting.

Inside the envelope was a crystal star (flourite or amethyst, I'm not sure) and a lovely card with a thank-you for the lunch I gave her all those weeks ago. I wondered for a moment if I was the only person in class she'd connected with. I wasn't sure what to do - she bolted as soon as she dropped the card on my desk. She walked out with the education coordinator and the two women seemed to be talking.

I didn't really want to miss the lecture (on vegetable garden problems) but something got very restless inside my spirit all of a sudden. And a deep dark sadness crept into my soul. And I almost started to cry. So it wasn't that long before I walked out the door to see if she was still outside talking with Janet. She was.

But what was I supposed to do? I walked up to her and hugged her, thanked her. I looked her in the eyes and asked, "Are you okay?" She nodded hesitantly, said yes. I could see quite clearly that she wasn't okay. But she was engaged in another conversation, and I needed not to be skipping out on the lecture. I leveled my gaze at her and nodded. There wasn't much else to do.

At the end of class Mrs. Pandammy and I took the usual post-class-late-afternoon dogwalk on the beach. Mt. Baker was exquisite, its lower slopes crystal clear across the Admiralty Inlet and Whidbey Island. A beautiful afternoon, and yet I was so very close to tears. I needed to pick up my blood pressure meds at the Safeway, so right at dark I drove up into town. As I was checking out hobbitt was coming in with Jose Sainz, a gifted kite artist. We hugged briefly and I limped out to my car. (Yes, my knee is still kaput.)

And on the way home the tears came. Whose are they? I wonder if they're Alison's. I know she must be feeling that cold electric excitement of wonder and regret. Are they mine? Kirsten's?