Crazy World

The summer people are gone and the Fall people are on their way out, flying off to their first homes in warmer places. Every day it’s a little quieter here. In the mornings, I wake up early and watch the sun rise up blazing over the lake. In the afternoons, I do yardwork and take long walks through the woods. I tell myself, DON'T read the news. 

I read the news. 

Do you remember ten years ago, how the world went crazier and crazier, and you were thinking, This has GOT to be It. There’s no way it can get any crazier. The election will be over and everything will slow down and go back to normal. (Normal, meaning, you can just live your life and not have to worry about the world falling apart every second of every day.) 

Ha ha. You were such a silly little doofball back then, because things just got crazier, and now, here we are, the crazy world whirling on. 

Still, somehow, you keep living your life and living your life and living your life. The sun, the lake, the walks in the woods. What a strange, fascinating place we've found ourselves in. I write notes so I will remember.

How the tree up on the hill has a plaque that says this tree was planted in the 16th century. And how the library in a nearby town needs an assistant (I am going to apply for this job. Please cross your fingers for me!) and one of the job duties is you have to tend the fire in the fireplace. And how everyone around here seems to own a vest. What’s up with the vests? Do I need to buy a vest? 

Someone swears he saw a mountain lion? A cheetah? A leopard? I forget which variety of big cat. This was said at The Grange, the town’s community arts and culture center, where they show movies and have art exhibits and live music and lectures. 

The lecture I went to was packed, everyone clamoring to hear more about how we should reclaim the area and return more of it to wild animals. Wouldn’t it be great if we had more foxes? the lecturer said, And wolves and moose and big cats?

All of the vest-wearing people in the room nodded excitedly, but I was not nodding excitedly. I was fidgeting anxiously. I was imagining myself out with the dog after dark, and a wolf or a moose or a mountain lion or whatever creeping out of the woods. 

And then, I was imagining living through it. I was imagining telling you the story.  

That night driving home the car crested over the hill, and there was the lake ahead, the moonlight on the water so white it was blinding. 

The world has never been crazier. The world has never been more beautiful.