Little Rays of Sunshine

Today is Tuesday, one of my favorite days of the week. No one owns me on Tuesday, except Scout who owns me every day. Rain, shine, snow or heat, the dog needs a long walk and he gets one.

I have found a new loop trail that leaves out of the end of the driveway. The first third is down Dubois Rd and is on actual pavement, but the car traffic here is nearly non-existent so it is still pleasant. After a long downhill, we turn west and head up a private road that barely says "Hello, good morning!" before it starts to kick my ass. The first time I mounted this beast, my heart actually hurt. The second time, today, I knew what I was in for and though I went no slower, my head was prepared and my heart caught up. My lungs are still not so sure.

I remember when I was younger listening to "old" people make jokes about how hills got steeper as they got older. "They may be right," crossed my mind, then I chalked up the intense challenge to altitude. ;-)

Scout is also changing. He still runs up the hill, but his recovery time is slower and generally passes out for a few hours after we get home. I find that his compulsion to tag every tree, shrub and post, as is his standard practice when he is a city dog, has abated here on the island. Two long pulls on the trigger and he is good for the entire walk.

I headed into town amazed at how much I still enjoyed the cold weather, even after all these years of blood-thinning life in SF. Frozen pot-shaped ponds with wooden stirring sticks jutting skyward reminded me of skating on the marsh adjacent to my childhood home. I wonder if anyone skates here, other than the rollerblading every Friday night at the south end town hall.

I had my first on-island date with my higher power at noon and for nearly an hour, charaded as an alcoholic. I was brain engaged and butt in chair for 55 minutes when the words "Ellen, did you want to share?" drove my mind clear out of my body, the room and the building.

Palms sweating, I confessed my primary allegience, haltingly declared my love for addicts and alcoholics everywhere and my growing commitment to use whatever part of the program, in its entirety, that could help me. I muttered something to the floor about feeling that these people were my community. Nods, smiles and encouraging "of courses" made their way 'round the circle, reconnecting my escaped mind with my body.

Sitting here at home, I remember 12 of their names and all of their faces. This is how I think about it: I have spent the last 10 days in a lovely, well equipped life boat with food, water and calm seas and faith that I would be fine. Today I saw there is land all around me and that whenever I need to go ashore, I can just paddle in.

PS. How ironic that the first non-Aboriginals to homestead this island were 50 free blacks from San Francisco and in 10 days I have seen nothing but white people.