Spring New (Beltane) Moon
So. There is background noise, the hard-drive chitters quietly, like a squirrel hunting for a nut. Now, where did I put that damned thing? I say I’m calm, not afraid, not anxious but I think that puts my persona out there, where I want me to be. Underneath the persona where we all live our most private of lives a gyroscope of concern works away, wobbling, righting itself, but never able to spin down completely.
How do I know? Example. On my way in to the Rodeo All Stars I went to the post office to drop off some bills. I did that. Then, as I got down the slope to Highway 285 North I checked for the envelope that had my tickets and parking passes. Uh oh. Not there. Wait a minute. Slap forehead. Yes, I had “mailed” my tickets and parking passes in the driveby mailbox.
At first I thought, well, that’s done. I’ve got to go home. Then, no, what would you say? Go back and ask. If you don’t ask, you don’t get. So I drove back to the post office. Closed. Well, damn. Then a gray haired lady opened the door. She had hear me rattling the door, looking forlorn. “Can I help you?”
Moments later we were out at the mailbox. She turned a key, got out a white plastic bin and sure enough, under the bills was my envelope from the Rodeo All Stars. I thanked her and drove into Denver.