On Friday there was unexpected discouraging news, out of nowhere. It was a whole new burden of anxiety about the future.
So that night I came home and thought Well, what pieces of the future can I tend to right now? And there were lots of small right-now things. Watering the garden, making green-leaf juice, simmering soup stock, washing the floors, and making a special plan to go right to sleep at sunset and just work on chores all day Saturday.
Then this morning, it seemed a nice idea to hide from the sunrise and avoid all that anxiety by just going back for a long Sunday sleep. But it seemed wiser to get up and walk straight to the park and just sit on a bench by the creek and watch the water.
Then on the way back I got lost in a cul-de-sac street. There on this new unfamiliar corner was a tall fence with a handwritten letter signed by the members of the family who lived in the house in that yard. The note invited passersby to eat the raspberries growing on the fence, to help ourselves and pick all that we liked. “We love to share! Please enjoy!” I took two berries and a picture of their fence, and wrote down the names and the address, to leave them a thank you note this week.
Tonight at Dollar Tree bargain store. In the parking lot between the car wash and the nail salon, some wonderful violin music was ringing out of the sky with an orchestra background. It took a while to recognize it as a melody sung by Andrea Bocelli, the Italian track of “Perfect Symphony” with Ed Sheeran. People hurried past, probably figuring it was some car stereo somewhere. But I walked all around the parking lot trying to figure out where this music came from. Finally after enough circling around I ended up near two young men hanging out with some sound equipment at a car hatchback. One was playing an electric violin of some kind. When he finished the song I dropped my donation in the basket and said “Dollar Tree has an orchestra? And do all of these people even realize that the music is you?”
The men were all smiles, but they didn’t follow my English kidding around.
“From Italy, one month in America,” said the violinist’s companion. “This my brother. Two kids, no green cards.”
“Say, that sounded just wonderful,” a driver called out, holding some bills out his car window. “You know what you do with talent of that quality? You thank God for it, is what.”
“It sounded straight from heaven,” I told him, pointing at the sky.
“That’s exactly where it’s from,” the driver said. He started talking to the men while I headed home.
Tomorrow it’s up early to make phone calls and start dealing with this new future problem. But this was a good Sunday.