A Walker in the Suburbs

Says one mourning dove to another: “You’re plump and cute; Let’s get married.” Or at least that’s what I thought he said, though his words came out a bit garbled, more like like “Oooh eee, oooh, oooh, oooh.” We watched this pair yesterday afternoon and I just saw them this morning as they continued their courtship dance on our deck railing.

Mourning doves like our house. Maybe it’s the silvery weathered wood, which makes them think they’re in the forest. Or maybe the railing is the right height for them. Or maybe they know that bird lovers live inside. We’ve had dove families here before. One year we watched babies take flight. They toddled along the planks, then spread their wings and soared to a nearby bough. As we stood earthbound, holding our breath, they became creatures of the air.

This morning I opened up our new dishwasher after its inaugural run and found scoured bowls, gleaming glasses, spotless plates. All of this accomplished not by my hand but by the miraculous innards of our new machine. Six months of washing dishes by hand has made me appreciate what I used to greet with a shrug. And I’ve made a new resolution: no more pre-rinse. The dishes go in dirty and come out clean. That’s the deal we made.

But we’ve made another deal, too, a more subtle one. Using a dishwasher again saves time. What will I do with this windfall? It can’t involve another machine. It must be pure activity. Read more, write more, walk more, declutter more. Labor saved.

On the longest day of the year I went swimming after dinner. I did a few laps until almost 9, when it was time for adult swim. The pool was almost empty and the lights were on. I did the side stroke, aqua-jogged and floated on my back. I didn’t want to miss anything: the pool with the lights on, my hands all lit up in the yellow glow, the moon above, almost full and struggling for equal time — a losing battle last night. Yesterday belonged to the sun.

Walking helps me think, helps me create, helps me stay in shape. Most of all, walking helps my mood. How many days I’ve left the house in the doldrums, mentally pacing, worry-logged, going nowhere. But once out the door, motion takes hold. Whatever I was fretting about before recedes. In its place are suburban sights and sounds, some familiar, others not. Today a fox stood his ground as I approached along a Franklin Farm path. When I was about 20 yards away, he turned and ran. I wish I could have followed him, lived a bit of his day. Was he a she hunting for food? A mother with babies in the woods? On the way home I passed a last stand of honeysuckle and caught a whiff of its perfume. It’s the last Friday of spring, still and clear. The medicine has worked, once again.

Today about 500 Oakton High School seniors will parade through the doors of George Mason University’s Patriot Center on their way to the future. “Pomp and Circumstance” will be playing, video cams will be whirring and I think I can safely say that about midway through the commencement address a few students will reach into their robes and slip out inflatable beach balls, blow them up and toss them into the air. Red-faced administrators will scowl, wave their arms and maybe catch a ball or two. But soon more beach balls will appear, kids tapping them with their finger tips, sending them up into the air, laughing and playing. The rules of school are no match for the exuberance of youth.

What the kids don’t yet know is that the rules of school are replaced with the rules of life — tougher, less forgiving. But for now, they can pretend there are no rules at all. For now, they can whip off their hats and throw them up in the air. For now, there is only joy.

It’s Bloomsday, the day James Joyce lovers gather to celebrate the novel Ulysses and its protagonist Leopold Bloom. A day named for a book — it gladdens my heart to know this is possible. The power of the written word. Especially the word “yes.” Here are the novel’s famous last lines: “and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes. “