It’s All Folded

Ha!! Bet you thought I was talkin’ about the laundry, right?

Nope, got two heaping baskets full. Been pulling clean clothes out of them for days.

So, then, maybe you thought I was talking about THIS?

NO– although it is Nigel Tufnel’s voice I hear when I read the title out loud.

I was walking to work today and thinking about the kinds of life events (or non-events) that end up being the folding points, the demarcations of Before (such and such) and After (such and such.)

Some of these folding points seem like they should be obvious — wedding, graduation. Yet those aren’t, for the most part, the folding points I think of when I think about events of deep significance. I think of snapshots, really. Blinks. Moments in time I can close my eyes and BE in.

Playing marble run with my high school English teacher’s kids… who became the first three and four year olds I ever fell in teacherly love with myself.

A pre-dawn phone call… which led to a small plane and then a bus and then a car ride from friends to a hospital on Cape Cod where my boyfriend was in a coma.

A kiss in a bar from a man I barely knew… which led to moving to Montana and becoming a gigging musician and a marriage and a divorce.

A sideways look from the lead singer of the band I was sitting in with, about three solos in, and the comment, “I think I speak for all of us when I say, You can sit in with us any time you like”– like, the next 15 years.

An infectious laugh, overheard on an Ace Hardware employee’s crackling walkie-talkie, and then seeing a tall cute guy hurry by with a grin that told me he’d been the one laughing, and feeling like I’d really like to hear that laugh again– for the rest of my life, I hope.

 

 

 

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