Winter Waning Moon of Long Nights
I went on the great errand run this morning. To the pharmacy for drugs. To the jewelers for two watch batteries and to leave a pocket watch for repair. Then over to the Spectacle Shoppe to have them repair the glasses that Vega bit. Mildly unsatisfactory, but workable. After that spectacle, all the way over to Lights on Broadway to buy unusually sized bulbs for this and that. A completed circle then brought me back home. Maybe 40 miles or so. Strange.
There were the small oblong pills, tan in color, containing a chemical the somehow regulates the uptake of serotonin in my brain, a pill that I read recently doesn’t help me. Not sure about that, so I’ll keep on taking them. Tiny batteries, smaller than the nail on my little finger, power watches for years, a triumph of miniaturization; yet, the watch I sent off for repair, made a hundred years ago or so, works, as watches had for centuries by quick tweaks of the thumb and forefinger. These glasses, plastic frames and round, cost almost as much as the lenses within them, lenses that correct my vision so I can read highway signs before I’m on top of them. Then the small lamps that light my workspace, halogen bulbs, but special and difficult to find, fan lights also difficult to find. These items replace the candles or gas light or kerosene lanterns of not that long ago.
The length of the journey seemed outsized to me until I began to realize the stunning technological distance each separate product represented. That they are available to me in so small an ambit is the amazing thing. That they are available at all depends on the brain and its mysterious companion, consciousness. Every day is a wonder, even the mundane.
