Roanoke and Salem, Virginia
Today felt like: a collective exhale after a heavy week, wrapped in light domestic quiet, comfort food, and a much-needed sense of relief.
The day moved like this:
Hit The Green Goat for lunch for the first time, dining out on the porch. Snagged a Starbucks chocolate chip cookie for dessert on the drive home, and stuck our noses into Kelley’s Music for a moment. Returned home to finish up my FIL’s phone recovery, do a little crafting, and zone out with the in-laws in front of *Kath & Kim*.
I noticed:
• something small: a tiny sweat bee resting briefly on my thumb during lunch on the porch
• something living: a young male deer out back with asymmetrical antlers—a fork on one side, a single lone spike on the other
• something that felt out of place: Victor the Securitron from *Fallout* standing guard on the mantle, blending in reasonably well alongside the usual lineup of gnomes, yeti, Bigfoot, Mothman, and werewolf toys
animals / visitors:
The young fork-and-spike buck making his rounds, and a friendly little sweat bee at lunch.
I kept thinking about:
How local quirks quietly drift away over time. It looks like the Roanoke superhero fad is fading-Hollow King retired, and most of the others have gotten rather quiet.
I’ve also been struggling to stay focused on *Starseekers* by Nicole Glover for book club on Monday. It just isn’t winning me over, and I keep letting myself get lured away by better books (including chewing through *The Martian Chronicles* yet again instead of reading what’s due).
small good things:
• the huge relief of BHK appearing clear of cancer after yesterday’s procedure, even as we wait on final biopsy confirmation
• an onion and olive calzone on the restaurant porch
• getting my FIL’s phone fully recovered with his research intact (even if watching his reliance on AOL and indiscriminate web surfing makes me wince)
• a warm Starbucks chocolate chip cookie for the ride back
Tonight:
Taking a breather with the family, relaxing over TV and crafts, and letting the stress of the medical stuff dissipate.
free write:
This afternoon, BHK was regaling me with stories from back when she was six years old, living in the holler and collecting minnows in the creek.
It was a deeply emotional moment for her to pull those quiet years back up to the surface, but it was clearly such a pleasant, cherished memory. Listening to her recount the feel of the water and the simple focus of watching silver streaks dart around her feet was a lovely reminder of how those small, unburdened pieces of childhood stay rooted in us forever.
After a couple of tense days centered around doctors and waiting rooms, sitting together in the quiet of the house and sharing those gentle, uncomplicated memories felt like the best kind of breathing room.