Shouldn't…but Do

Leaking water has long been a feature in my home.  Even  before the departure of X, bathroom faucets,  kitchen faucets, kitchen sink sprayer, water filter outlets, and outdoor hoses leaked incessantly.   Mostly they leaked  for months and years.  Occasionally, effort was made, and one leak would be stopped.

As time passed, and water and money drained away, I made friends with the drips and drops, tried to ignore the water bill, and resigned myself to forces beyond myself.  Like many, my financial status does not correlate with the cost of paid plumbing assistance.  With the effort toward divorce in the past several years, I was under water and accepted it.

Last summer I repaired each outdoor connection.  Last December, the bathtub faucet drip became a drum beat, difficult to ignore.  This January, the kitchen water filter, cartridges unchanged for years, let out a final  high-pitched whine before I shut it down for good on a Friday afternoon.  Remarkably, I was able to speak with a fellow that day who could replace the filter at a price I could afford – and he could do it the following Monday.

On Saturday, without prerequisite knowledge, I undertook the kitchen faucet after a motivational trip to the local hardware store.   Faith and YouTube prevailed and to my amazement, the kitchen faucet leaked no more.

With earnest naivete I tackled the bathtub faucet on Sunday.  Hours and several trips to the hardware store later, my repair yielded a bathtub faucet spewing water at high pressure when off.   End of day found me further under water than ever before.  A fast-thinking friend suggested returning the internal cartridge, and faucet, to their  previous condition – a move that proved so successful the bathtub faucet leaked no more.

On Monday, the fellow who installed the new water filter explored the leaking, mouldering seal around the kitchen sink drain.  Over the next two afternoons, this gracious guy helped me remove and install two new kitchen drains – all for the reduced wholesale price of the water filter and a  plate of cookies.

I learned a lot about leaks.  I learned faucets and switches not only provide access to natural resources, they hold them at bay.  Without the right fix – a strong, tight connection – the undefined stuff of water drowns out the senses and drives up expenses.  I learned old solutions sometimes work – when examined,  reinvented, suffered, and restored.  And I learned sometimes you can fix things by yourself – and sometimes you can’t.  Near or far, there are good folks around that can help.

There are no leaking faucets, drains, or hoses around my house at present.  First time in over a decade.  Nature – supply and demand – and the  fine line between on and off.  Regulation – a  good thing.

Dawn over the strip mall.  Deep indigo sky, vibrant reflection in sheet ice over asphalt.  Blue above, blue below, a shock of pink apricot on the horizon.  Just for a few moments – wish you could have seen it.  Reason to be.

Cars roll up to the everlasting light of a nearby gas station, coffee, fuel.   Indigo to robin’s egg sky.  The day has begun.

Of things gathered but not described, researched but not written.  Excerpts, pages, references and me – needing an organizing principle.  A work of life, of years, an effort frustrated and sidelined by the very events it foresaw and sought to explain.  Experience takes time.

The scratch again of pencil on paper, I am Home.

Early morning neighborhood drive  last week.  A school bus pulled even going the opposite direction, its lights began to flash, signalling  pick up of precious cargo bound for the elementary.  I stopped.

Throughout that mildly grey day, stop signs at corners, in parking lots.  I stopped for each, and started again.

Within each stop is a start.  And who is to say which is first?  Beginnings get all the press, but endings do most the work.   Even the universe was doing something before the Big Bang.

They say change is constant, I believe it.   Human equations, fluid equilibrium, stop and start.

All that is old is new again.  The shedding of skin, the work, exhaustion – the gift – of emergence.  Tis’ the season.  Happy New Year one and all.

On this Christmas a silent wish – carried in these letters you read.  Peace, health, love, happiness – may they sink long into your life, and the lives of those that love you.

Each year is like no other and this one has been exceptional for me – in its challenges, and its discoveries.  Thank you so very much for your presence in this little bog, and in my life.

The winter festivals – light in the darkness – Solstice, Hanukkah, Christmas.   Blessings to you and yours.