Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Home sweet home?

Originally uploaded by sarahfelicity
Seems so long ago that I was there in that session room at Hollyhock. But yes, I'm in there, paying rapt attention to the speaker. I believe that this was the session on Human-Centred Design. Oh, those were the times, I tell ya.

And today, when I dragged myself out of my warm bed much too late to be at work on time, I tried to convince myself that I could bring the conference state of mind to my day. On my bike ride through my neighbourhood, I tried to be present and aware. I smelled the too-sweet smell of honey and butter from the local baklava bakery. I looked at the gardens of flowers (trying not to curse that mine had dried out and died while I was away...)

I had my usual banter with my cute little Starbucks guy about my London fog and thought about how much I had missed him. It was sunny and warmer than the west coast. Quite beautiful, actually. And then the crap day started. I guess it was inevitable. Inspiration doesn't make the crap go away, it just makes you a little more immune to it... or sometimes, anyway.

At first I was cheerful. And suddenly I felt I was hanging on to my smile with desperation. Finally, I sat down in my chair and gave in to it.

At the end of my very long crap day in which I didn't manage to a single inspiring thing, I remembered what I had waiting for me at home: ST Voyager episodes.

And it carried me through to getting out of there and picking up my bike from the bike room. It carried me home through the darkness as I looked at the lights of the DVP from the Bloor-Danforth bridge and cars ripped by and even other cyclists were jerks to me.

It carried me until I checked my messages and got the one that had been waiting for me since I left on my holiday.

It was from my neighbour. He was calling because he wanted to know if he could use the driveway. There were relatives over, you see. There were many people visiting, in fact. They were over because his wife died last week. Passed while I was away. And he had just wanted to use my driveway and I wasn't here to say yes.

I felt so petty about begrudging my day. Because nothing really matters that much, does it?

I do love my neighbour. He is such a nice man. And his wife was so wonderful to me. And now she has given in to the lung cancer and he is probably alone with his yappy dog. Do I go knock on his door? What do I say? Do I give him space? Do I call him?

I remember the last time that his wife was away. I remember he lived on frozen dinners because he hates cooking. I think I will make him something. I will make him something and bring it over and tell him that I'm very sorry. And it won't be enough but it will be something, won't it?

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