Buckle Up

That little slash of red, blue and green on the side of the cliff...
that's me, around seven years ago.
One small problem.
I'm really not good at coping with heights.
Standing at the top of that cliff filled me with anxiety.
My feet and hands sweated,
I wouldn't walk close to the edge.
The teenagers I took on this Tennessee adventure
had a really hard time talking me over to the point
where the camera could take such fine photos
of folks on their way down.
They got me there, but it took persuasion.

Here's the irony....
once I strapped on my harness,
I was fine.
I backed right off that cliff with no hesitation,
and enjoyed the whole trip down.

Today, about halfway through the morning,
I found myself feeling like I was teetering
on the side of a cliff.
Too much sorrow and bad news.
Ernie died on Saturday afternoon.
My mandolin (number one stress reliever)
went out of whack last night with
buzzes on the G and D strings
and a blowout on one of the E strings.
(We go to the shop later today for repairs.)
Then, some awful news this morning...
a friend with a dreadful medical diagnosis.

I muddled through the morning,
then came home and cried in my soup
and watched Mr. Rogers.
I'm taking a REALLY LONG LUNCH today.
I felt a need to retreat,
to get back in my harness,
to get reconnected to the ropes
tying me securely to the tree.

I felt a need to buckle up.

I'll be back at work this afternoon.
I'll be back, swinging merrily down the cliffs
of everyday life.
But for a while, today,
I'm going to take the time I need
to tie the loose pieces back together.