I don’t live alone, but my nocturnal habits cause me to be alone for most of the day. I spend my days alone. I wake up alone, eat alone, read alone, walk alone. I walk to the water every afternoon as if to give purpose to my day. Yesterday I saw a coyote lapping water at the shore. I waited until he was done before I proceeded. It’s strange to see a coyote in the day. I hear them singing at night (when I’m alone). I was startled. Seeing the coyote turned on my animal brain and rational thought went out the window. I thought “rabies” but a rabid animal wouldn’t be near the water. He went away into the brush. I continued my walk and stopped near the island to read my book.
I left my book along the shore to climb up the canyon. I followed the canyon farther than I should have, and got stuck on an outcropping. “No one knows where I am.” I calmed down until my animal brain went away. I started to think again and I found a way down, only slipping a little bit.
When I came back I found an egret, nearly as tall as I am, standing in the water in front of my book. “I try to live my life with no egrets” I told the egret, thinking he would appreciate the joke. I didn’t want to scare him away but I did want to pick up my book.
I went back today but couldn’t focus on my book. I kept thinking of the goddamned cornfields near Olivia, Minnesota, and the school bus that broke down in the summer heat. If only that school bus hadn’t broken down, I wouldn’t have quit that corn de-tasseling job when I was 14. Seven years later, why does that still matter to me?