Ginger Snapped

You have lost count of how many loads of laundry you have done today. You have also lost count how many times you’ve driven past that pond where the geese and goslings are on your way to and from town. In fact, you’ve lost count of what day it is and who you are; you’re simply going on autopilot according to the beefy to-do list you made yesterday for this week: one graduation, one piano recital, one band concert, one car maintenance appointment, one doctor’s appointment, two dentist appointments, four houseguests, one meeting, one book club Skype visit, a road trip to Massachusetts to pick up restored paintings, a senior awards night, four band rehearsals, a festival, a silent movie, a cook-out, a restaurant or two, a seminary graduation, and some sheer panic, and that about sums it up for this week. Besides the grocery shopping. There’s that, too. Next week brings three more doctor’s appointments for various family members in Campaign Let’s All Be Healthy Before We Leave, and a tri...

From the earliest days of married life, you watched from the window as the Gingerbread Man left. You watched him as he left to walk to class. You watched him as he got in the car to drive to work -- the Honda, then the Subaru, then the Saturn, then the Ford. After the Ford became scrap metal, he biked to school. Four years of biking year-round in Michigan -- it's no wonder you watched him back then; he might have returned to you as an icicle. When degrees were granted and school was finished, you watched him drive away in the Toyota as he went to claim the other side of the desk at the university. Sometimes, you watched him commute again by bike, though not in winter. You've watched all these years, catching a last glimpse as your love went away for the day. Coat on, a skip in his step, car door slammed or a bike helmet clipped on. Sometimes he sees you and smiles and waves. Often he doesn't, and you watch unobserved from the window. When you've watched until th...