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Author: Anne Cassidy

Lying Still

Lying Still

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At first it seemed like any other morning. The drowsy drive to Metro, sipping tea along the way. Parking, walking, boarding a car, pulling out my journal and scribbling some thoughts.

But then I looked up, considered the time, noticed the difference.

It was the busiest hour of the busiest day of the week. And it was quiet. There were seats on train cars, places to stand on the platform, an unimpeded walk up the escalator.

These words come to mind:

The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still! 

William Wordsworth, “Upon Westminster Bridge”

Shutdown!

Shutdown!

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It’s the first day of October — and the first day of government shutdown.  I’m imagining what the Metro will look like tomorrow (today, employees must still report to work, only to fill out some papers and then go home).

I imagine the trains and buses will be emptier but the roads busier. Home improvement stores will be bustling as the furloughed ones use this time to catch up on projects.

One doesn’t have to live here long to realize what a company town this is. A company town the business of which is government. A business that has shut down.

Let’s Dance!

Let’s Dance!

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Sometimes the empty nest is so quiet it drives you out of the house and into … the dance studio. Tap dance, in this case. Maybe (in retrospect) because it is so loud. But mostly, I think, because it is so much fun.

“Smile,” the instructor says. “Don’t forget to smile.”

And so I do, even though I feel ridiculous wearing a little straw hat, attempting shuffle ball change and a complicated routine that others seem to be picking up much more quickly. Oh, and without tap shoes. (I’m waiting on those until I’m sure I want to stay with this.)

But it’s hard to feel ridiculous for long in a tap-dance studio. After all, everyone else is wearing a little straw hat.

So I loosened my shoulders and let the music flow through me.

That’s when the awkwardness went away and the dancing began.

(Photo: Tapdance.org.)

Ancient Rhythms

Ancient Rhythms

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A bounty of photos means that Africa is still on my mind.

I imagine the roads at dusk, red soil, the shadows lengthening. A river beside the road, or maybe still water, a small pond.

Ancient rhythms, still alive.


(Photo by Katie Esselburn)

Gifts from Africa

Gifts from Africa

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The human heart is a funny thing, what it withstands, what it does not. I’ve long since accustomed myself to Suzanne’s absence. She’s been in Africa well over a year now. She’s busy, happy, completely at home.

But last night, the worlds collided. Suzanne’s friend Katie came to visit “bearing gifts” from her recent trip to see Suzanne in Benin. Things Suzanne had bought and wanted us to have:

There was a leather wallet, a small wall hanging of a woman carrying a jug on her head and a set of hand-cast ladles made of an indeterminate metal (maybe aluminum?).

For some reason now, I can hardly look at these gifts without a tissue nearby. That Suzanne chose them with her own hands, arranged for their passage here — well, it just got to me.

It’s always that way, isn’t it? The small, thoughtful detail; a glimpse of the eternal within the everyday.


(Photo: Katie Esselburn)

World Wide-Webbed

World Wide-Webbed

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We’ve had a bumper crop of spiderwebs this year, perhaps brought on by the cooler, damper summer — or perhaps not. Perhaps just brought on by an especially industrious crop of spiders.

Whatever the explanation, the webs have been out in full force. They catch you in the woods, cling to your hair, your clothes, your shoes. Not, of course, to your dog. He’s too short to be webbed.

They drive you to carry a stick and walk along the paths swinging it madly from side to side; in other words, webs make you look foolish.

Webs appear overnight, strung across the trampoline or the pergola, nature’s bunting. True, they are not good for hikers or unsuspecting insects. But stand aside, glimpse one with the sun behind it, thin threads gleaming, and it’s clear that webs are good for the soul.

(Photo: Tom Capehart)

Equinox, Equator

Equinox, Equator

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So we come to the days of perfectly parceled light. Equal measures of darkness and day. What every young child longs for: the cookie cut into two halves that are absolutely the same. Not one chocolate chip more or less.

Perfect equality; perfectly equal.

I think these days of Suzanne, living nine degrees north of the equator in a land where it’s always  equinox. Mornings at 7, evenings, too. Seasons of rain and sun rather than heat and cold. Still the northern hemisphere, but barely.

Summer-lover that I am, northern hemisphere-dweller that I am, it’s hard to imagine warm weather without long days. But that’s what she has. Heat and wood smoke, too, I bet — another one of those anomalies.

Here at 38 degrees latitude, we are finally balanced. But only because it’s September 25. The scale is already tipping. Darkness is winning out. Time to dream of a land where it never does.

(Photo: Katie Esselburn)

Running and Walking

Running and Walking

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I can’t really explain it, did not set out to do it, but lately I’ve been running more than I’ve been walking.  My knees seem up to the task, and there is the mood-elevating aspect of the endeavor, the “runner’s high,” which encourages the habit.

I can’t help but compare the two, though. Running is about the pace, the accomplishment. At least at this point of my re-entry into the activity, I find myself thinking more “hey, I’m running!” than anything else.

Walking, on the other hand, frees the mind for wandering. The pace is natural, conducive to wool-gathering along the way.

All of which is to say: the ideal day would include time to run and walk. Ah, if only I didn’t have to earn a living!

The Promise of Leisure

The Promise of Leisure

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Bad weather was moving in, so I considered taking in the hammock. I scarcely used it this summer, since I had precious little down time. And the fact that we had a bumper crop of mosquitoes in the backyard didn’t help.

Still, there were a few sultry afternoons I lazed away an hour or two, staring up at the leaves or swaying to music or reading and dozing.

Besides, the hammock is not just for the body, it’s for the mind.  Simply to see it slung there so invitingly makes my shoulders drop a notch or two.

I finally decided that the hammock stands for the promise of leisure more than leisure itself.

And who wants to put that away for the summer?

Wedding Day

Wedding Day

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There’s something in the air. Last weekend I learned of two engagements. Today I know of two weddings. One, a colleague’s, is downtown. The other is across the street. Literally. 
All week long the dust has been flying. The gardeners delivered mulch, the tent people delivered a tent (one something like this), and other rental outfits dropped off chairs and tables and a porta-potty (which I’ve heard through the grapevine is a deluxe model).
It’s the wedding of our neighbor’s father — not an event one usually associates with a parent, but delightful when it happens. 
We neighbors have the smallest of supporting roles: We will put up with the parking and the noise. We will medicate our dogs if necessary. And we will send silent cheers their way. 
I may not feel this way tomorrow morning, but right now I can say: It’s good to have a wedding in the ‘hood.
(Photo: Fairytaletentsandevents.com)