By Ellen Buikema
Returning to the United States after more than two years of wandering through Mexico was a great joy, even in pandemic times. Living once again in a country where I had a good grasp of the language and general culture provided a relief I didn’t anticipate. I discovered that the life of a gypsy is not good for me. I needed a home base more than I knew.
Within a month of our return, my hubby discovered that he’d require back surgery to alleviate a “strangled” sciatic nerve, followed by a dental emergency for me. Next came a race to obtain the plethora of documents required by the state to be worthy of a driver’s license before my birthday, which approached with lightning speed. And, we needed to find a permanent place to live.
I couldn’t think beyond what felt like moment-to-moment emergencies. I was pretty much flailing at the end of this whirlwind.
Grasping for prose and finding nothing but critters
I turned to writing to sort myself out, plunking down in front of my PC, and attempting to focus on what to write next. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement. A jumping spider appeared to have taken up residence on top of my workspace while I’d ignored my computer for several consecutive days.
Another, slightly larger jumping spider scurried around the other side of my PC. We regarded each other. It pumped two front legs up and down. I blew a bit of air in the spider’s direction. It hurried away. The smaller spider on the other side of my computer repeated the stare-off and leg-pumping maneuver.
They won that round.
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