Bloomsday 2015

I'm seven decades on this earth. Today I begin working on the eighth.

Warm, flower-filled pots on backporch release sweet scents in the rain, storm here over us just now, come from raining over Pagosa Springs two hours ago. Moving on already towards Amarillo. Life's slower now, despite speedy weeds leaping out of the ground all around and sun gone just about as far north as it's gonna.

I was born before man exploded the Trinity bomb south of here. Before jet travel. Before space was a destination. Before access to birth control.

Fortunate to be born during the season of the most light, because I was barely sighted. Fortunate to be born when it was warm, because I was extra tiny. Fortunate to be born middle class, because my vet dad could go to college and get a tiny house.

Fortunate to be born a woman in America, because my sisters elsewhere were not even as free as me. Fortunate to have lived into the age of birth control, because my ancestors weren't. Fortunate to have been given an education, because by great grandmothers hadn't. Fortunate to live now with fresh air, because that's not true for my siblings. Fortunate to have sunshine and clean water, because they're not so available where my children live.

Fortunate to have been through seven tens of turns around the sun. Fortunate to be. In joy!