O P I N I O N
LEMENADE
By June Lemen
There’s an empty plastic bag stuck on a branch at the top of one of the maples in my yard. I don’t know how long it’s been up there, because although I usually pay close attention to my surroundings, I have been so immersed in a time-sensitive project at work that I did not notice when it first appeared.
I’ve been busy. Incredibly busy for the entire month of October. I worked; I slept; I did it again. Part of me loves being that busy, because having all of my focus concentrated on one thing to do is great, especially when I am aligned with my purpose. But when I am hyper-focused on something, I tend to let other things go. Nothing big, just ordinary little, daily things. Playing with my dog. Making sure that Lucy is doing okay. Spending time with friends. Going to book club. All the things that make life worthwhile.
Then, all at once, my project was done. (It went well; thanks for asking.) I started getting home earlier. I started playing outside with the dog. I looked up and noticed the bag.
At first I was amused by it. I held little dialogues in my head about it. “How much wind will it take to loosen it up? Will enough rain collect in it at some point to make it sag? If it did collect enough rain, would it form a prism? Will birds shred it and make waterproof nests?”
It was fun, at first. Now it bothers me every time I drive into the driveway.
I don’t know why it bothers me so much. It’s not hideous. It’s not blocking the view from my yard. It’s not attractive either, but it isn’t causing me any harm. I don’t know about the birds, though. Or the trees.
Why does it trouble me so?
I don’t like it. I cannot do anything about it. I don’t have a ladder long enough to reach it. I am going to have to live with it.
I worked the election on Tuesday. I don’t know how many elections I’ve worked by now — I think I started around 2016 (thank you, Jean!) — but I love doing it. As someone who spent over 20 years as a technical writer, I am fueled by knowing how things work, especially things that affect me directly, like elections.
Elections in Nashua are well-run and civil. There have been times in the past when I was worried, and I was concerned about how this year would go, but the election went well. And for me, as a poll worker, I finally saw something I have longed to see — and have never seen before — pages of the election rolls where every name on the page had been checked off. I’d never seen even one full page before this past Tuesday.
I’d also never seen the numbers of new registrants that we saw on Tuesday; nor had I seen the sheer volume of voters we saw in Ward 3. It was astonishing.
I was reasonably happy when I went home, but I was worried. I woke up every hour on the hour, and checked my phone. Every time I went back to sleep I was more depressed. My dog came in and checked on me every time I checked the phone. And in the morning, I did what I always do: I got up and went to work.
The bag is still hanging on in my maple. I am pretty sure I’ll outlast it, but now, instead of just planning on outlasting it, I am researching what I can do about it. I prefer action.
When my ex-husband and I were trying to have a baby, it became very clear that I was running out of time. I sat in my own misery for a while, but then I got over myself and we adopted Lucy, who brings me joy every day. I am no longer married to her father, and it was an awful transition, but there turned out to be light at the end of the tunnel for me, and for Lucy.
I do not know what the future holds. I am not optimistic. But I am comforted by The Parable of the Chinese Farmer, which I remind myself of when things are not going my way. Do you know it?
“A farmer and his son had a beloved horse who helped the family earn a living. One day, the horse ran away and their neighbors exclaimed, “Your horse ran away, what terrible luck!” The farmer replied, “Maybe so, maybe not.”
A few days later, the horse returned home, leading a few wild horses back to the farm as well. The neighbours shouted out, “Your horse has returned, and brought several horses home with him. What great luck!” The farmer replied, “Maybe so, maybe not.”
Later that week, the farmer’s son was trying to break one of the horses and she threw him to the ground, breaking his leg. The neighbors cried, “Your son broke his leg, what terrible luck!” The farmer replied, “Maybe so, maybe not.”
A few weeks later, soldiers from the national army marched through town, recruiting all boys for the army. They did not take the farmer’s son, because he had a broken leg. The neighbors shouted, “Your boy is spared, what tremendous luck!” To which the farmer replied, “Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll see.”
So, for those of you who are mourning, I am with you. And I am here for you, no matter what you need. But I am reminding myself of this parable, which was first shared with me when I thought the door to motherhood had slammed shut for me.
And for those of you who are rejoicing, and who think that everything is going to be perfect now, maybe so. Maybe not. We’ll see.
You can reach June Lemen at junelemen18@gmail.com.
