Another Little Trip to the Rock

Here I am on the edge of a dull, dreary, overcast day, readying myself for yet another trip to Little Rock. This trip’s sole purpose is to visit a lab for a blood draw, ordered by my wife’s primary care doctor. Our visit on Friday yielded results that convinced  the doctor that the draws a day or two earlier, taken by a much more convenient lab, were not reliable. So, she wants a more reliable lab to do the draw. And, because that message did not reach us until late Friday afternoon and she wants the draw this morning, we had no time to explore other options. So, off to Little Rock we go.

We will use the occasion to do other things while we’re in the big city, though. We’ll go to Sam’s and Ali Baba, and, maybe, Trader Joe’s. Perhaps we’ll stop by Colonial Liquor to buy an on-sale bottle of Bombay Sapphire East gin. We’ll have lunch somewhere along the line and will, no doubt, do some other errands. It will be a productive day, albeit one whose character was not planned to play out this way until late last Friday. You go with the flow or roll with the punches or ride with the stride or glide with the ride or whatever.

I suggested we stop on the way back at one of the fitness/therapy centers nearby to inquire about engaging a therapist to help my wife improve her strength. She agreed, somewhat to my surprise.


I learned last night that my sister-in-law’s brother died last Friday, after a years-long bedridden nightmare. Though it was not unexpected, his death was a painful shock to her. Aging brings on changes and adjustments and pain that all the wisdom and experience in the world does not prepare us to handle.


I return to the dreary day outside my window and I think Mother Nature is in a melancholy mood. There’s not a breath of a breeze in the air. The remaining dead leaves on the trees hang motionless, as if paralyzed and comatose. The view outside my window seems two-dimensional, as if I were looking at a painting on a flat piece of polished wood. It’s a good thing I filled up the car with gas yesterday (or the day before?); our trip through the emptiness requires it.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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