Bumps, Gates, and Pies

Ah, how often do you get to leave mass and have to wait for a herd of sheep to pass by the front gates?

Tuesday was one of ups and downs. On my way to art class, just as I was 100 meters from the studio, a young woman in her company truck hit me in my Kia. She said she failed to stop and she failed to look. It was her birthday and she was excited after driving around for an hour that she could find a parking spot. (There are many parking lots in the area, but people like to park right in front of the place they are visiting.)

She said, “I’m sorry. It was my fault.”

Words like that are seldom spoken. She was a very fine woman.

After art class, I arrived back at the Jesuit Center only to find that the guests of one of our programs had completely blocked the driveway. I do not like that so I let them know. They were not like the kind woman who hit me. They never said a word about their wrongness. They never apologized.

Frustrated, I baked two pies. One was blueberry and the other was peach and pear. They tasted good.

Then I went upstairs to paint. Since I was feeling alone, I painted a man standing at the edge of a forest at dusk. It said all I needed it to say before I retired in peace.