turning points

Should I? Yes, of course I should. It's 16, but it's dry and sunny. I've seen worse.

Yes, but the cold... And it will feel worse later, when I am tired from the long day.

Okay, but if I don't, I miss out on so much!

Fine. I have a half hour. It's a twenty two minute pedal, let's go!

I'm bundled to the max. Cap under helmet, scarf, down jacket. Still, it's biting out there! I pull up the scarf to cover the face.

At the lake, I see the first stages of freezing. Beaver dams rise over sheets of thin ice.


 


Shoreline branches are frozen. As if they know what's coming and they see no point in avoiding the inevitable.





The birds retreat to the less solid waters. For the most part.





I need to hurry up! I have an early morning class Thursdays! It's the last day of classes, too. Hurry up!

What's this?! Lake shore path is closed? Why? Oh, tree maintenance? Well fine, but how do I proceed now? I have no time to spare! Okay, Observatory -- I'll take Observatory. Uff! That is one uphill climb! I am tired before I even enter the Law School doors.


For my first class, I have invited a guest. He's been an honored speaker in years past and I have come to depend on him to fill certain voids that I cannot tackle. I listen as always, but this time I note that there is something different about his presentation. It's the same talk, the same person, and yet... I ask him afterward -- did I hear you say that you've had some issues? Yes, this summer I almost died. I had a brain bleed. 

And it all comes back to me. It's as if I am listening to myself speak. Because some fifteen years ago, I was in his place -- freshly recovering from a brain hemorrhage. I know too well the feeling of post trauma vulnerability. The shocked relief at being alive. He tells me -- thirty percent die, thirty percent have significant brain damage, thirty percent survive with no lasting damage. I know those statistics well. They haven't changed in the last decades.

We talk for a while and then I have to hurry on. I have two more classes to teach.
 It's good to see you -- I say. It's good to be able to see you -- he tells me.


And now the day is done. Last class ends. I look out at the faces of my fall semester and I think -- wow, this is our last meeting as a group.  They've been my daily fare and now  -- pfft! gone. 

Home. I wish I could merely pedal home. It's cold, yes, that. But I also know that at home I have a laptop that spontaneously shuts down for no good reason. And I am going away next week. And I can't afford spontaneous shutdowns when I am far far from an Apple Service Center.

I spend two hours with the Apple Genius bunch and they try, they really do, but it's no use. My baby needs an overhaul and it is doubtful that needed parts will arrive before my departure next week.

I've seen people fall apart over computer issues and I am determined not to be one of them. I'll make do! I'll figure it out!

I rush home and make spaghetti sauce -- a family favorite. My old daughter comes by for dinner, Ed's there, being Ed.

The night sets in. Deep sigh. I have no complaints.