machetes and mailboxes

During the years that I stayed homebound with my mother, I lived to hear from my friends from college.

My father's friends had built a ramp and a porch on the front of our house for my mother.  It was there that the nurses would smoke, that the pets would lounge....  When Mom became less easy to move, we would bathe her on the porch as well, with a hose that ran from the utility tub in the garage. (Our house was secluded.) It was there that I would sit and wait to spy the mail carrier.

Our driveway was very long and I maintained it with a machete and clippers. It was important to me to see the postal service day after day.  Every day I waited.  Every day I walked with my heart in my throat, telling myself not to be disappointed.

The driveway was a little world.  I never knew what I would see... otter, snake, alligator, turtle, footprints of every description.  Brazilian peppers, oaks, grasses, wildflowers and wild riverbank grapes covered the drive.

I walked, barefoot when it was cool enough, in the sandy ruts leading to the dirt road we lived along.

When I actually did see the familiar handwriting of a friend, my heart soared.

The difference now is that I have more freedom and I know more people, but I still wait, for e-mail, for connection, for the love of friends that keeps me moving along.