February 5, 2019

Ruth stops by to ask about the movie

I almost missed it, like a subway stair or a stitch or that post about the new moon 
in Aquarius. The doorbell rang and the dog gave her requisite quartet of barks, 
and I answered. And there Ruth was, sleepy-eyed and magnificently silver-haired, 
asking about the movie, which—it turns out—I’d already seen. After she left, I noticed
how cheerful I’d been during our conversation, almost careless with optimism, freshly
innocent to the odds that always seem so stacked against its survival. The sun is out 
in full force today, and it is still winter, and it feels like someone broke the rules 
but no one got in trouble, and maybe this is what happiness is, the bridge between
near-misses that keeps you from losing your sweater or your balance, a door you open
as if by instinct, because someone else is on the other side, waving at you.