After 60, a time to begin

Terry Petersen, grandmother and writer



Posted on September 12, 2011 at 12:25 AM

Saturday, September 10

There is always room for coincidence. (Alva Noto)

     I'm on my way to a poetry gathering. I love on Friday evening when I realize the steering in my car feels strange. My stomach doesn't feel that great either; it's been complaining all day. I am trying to drink as much water as I can, but I had a banana for dinner. No fever. Don't know what it is. I decide I will tell Jay about it after the Buddy Walk and Ella's birthday party on Saturday. He has enough to be concerned about with his arthroscopic surgery this week.

     The meeting is as good as ever, but my head decides to revolt as well. I feel my cheeks redden. I want to leave early, but my poem isn't chosen for critique until the meeting is almost over. I ask for a copy of the last poet's poem, then sneak out.

     The drive home with my rebelling head and unstable car becomes longer because a detour appears that wasn't there on the same route to the meeting. Now, however, it is dark and I am driving in unfamiliar territory in a less-than-comfortable neighborhood.

     I make it home, in one piece. I park in the garage. Jay's car was in the driveway. This would not be significant. Ordinarily. When daylight arrived on Saturday, however, Jay saw why my car drove with an attitude. I had a slow leak in my tire that was no longer slow. I had enough air in it to get to a garage. Soon. No more.

     There was no answer at the closest tire center. We planned to pick up Jay's sister for the Buddy Walk. She suggested another shop, just a little farther away. We made it. This suggestion proved more than fortuitous. I had forgotten that I bought my tires there. They were under warranty.

     I don't expect to continue to live a charmed life. I'm not that boring. But, I recognize a blessing when it happens, and I wonder if my guardian angel ever gets paid overtime.


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