*with a nod to Jenny Joseph who wrote, “When I am an Old Woman” which can be found here. This poem is my own personalized manifesto.
When I am an old woman, I shall wear red every day With a purple bandana which doesn’t go and doesn’t suit me And I shall spend my social security check on cats, and watercolors, and musical instruments I can’t play, And say we’ve no money for liver. I shall set up my hammock in public parks, and walk on the grass; I shall take away ladders from workers on roofs, And sit in bookstore aisles and read books without buying, And lean my seat back as far as I can during airplane landings.
I shall make up for the sobriety of my youth. I shall climb up trees and not come down when they call for me, And learn to whistle with my fingers in my mouth, And prop my feet on the table when I feel like it. I shall learn to play the bagpipes, and shall say, “Ahoy, mate!” to strangers I see shopping at Walmart.
You can wear terrible clothes and let your hair stay frizzy And eat cereal at midnight and French Fries for breakfast Or only watermelon and chocolate for a week, And hoard old books and antique furniture and calculators and glass bottles.
But now we must be respectable, And pay the phone bill and not climb through windows; We must be a good example for the children. We must take food to potlucks and walk sedately.
But maybe I should start to practice now So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised When I am an old woman and start to wear red.
I had some notes written up on my laptop, things that I wanted to record for sure, when this morning my laptop suddenly stopped charging. I can’t even remember if I ever properly charged it since I arrived back in Thailand last Friday or not. Thankfully, I have a small keyboard that connects to my phone. And thankfully, I don’t have to be back at school until next Thursday so hopefully the shop can figure out how to fix it before then.
Currently, I am sitting in a cool coffee shop (cool as in not hot) on a sweltering May day, tapping away at this little keyboard and listening to quiet Thai songs playing, and listening to the man behind me who likes to sing along. Fun fact: I am pretty sure the songs playing are cover songs sung by a girl named Organ, a friend of mine I met through church.
I am back at my other home again.
I had traveled out of Thailand on March 13, but didn’t get home until March 17 since I stopped in at Guys Mills, PA to see my friend Tina. About 5 weeks later, on April 19, I flew out of Kansas to Winnipeg, Manitoba, to see Happy, a former student of mine. I spent three days with Happy, and got to meet her cousin and some good friends of hers. Winnipeg has a fair-sized Karen community and I loved meeting Karen people outside of the tropical culture I usually see them in, even though it was a bit of a shock at first. I met her friend Say Pa and Say Pa’s grandpa who is almost 100 and has the brightest, twinkliest eyes I ever saw. He is also deaf and can’t hear unless you yell at him. He leaned in close and told me how he had studied at a school in Myanmar under British rule before the conflict began. Say Pa’s little sister inherited her grandpa’s bright eyes, along with a unique view of the world. I managed to coax her out of her shyness and we played games like “I Spy” and “Tic Tac Toe.” As we played, I leaned down to write something, and she looked at the vein that tends to pop out on my forehead when I do that and said in a whispery voice, “My heart feels funny when I look at your forehead.”
Say Pa’s sister and her grandpa
I went with Happy to church on Sunday for both the English service in the morning and the Karen service in the afternoon. During the English service, we sang a song in Karen, Thai, and English. I loved watching the way Happy has poured herself into life in Winnipeg after only one year, whether it is taking care of her grandpa and cousin, studying hard, or volunteering at a local center.
Happy and I taking a walk in freezing Canadian weatherSay Pa, Happy and I at The ForksHappy singing at her church
Monday morning, I left on a flight to Toronto. My layover in Toronto was about 12 hours long. Before I left for Canada, I hadn’t taken the time to plan for Monday at all, so it wasn’t until Sunday night that I did some fast research about Toronto. I got the UP Express from the airport to downtown Toronto, leaving my luggage in the airport, which turned out to be more expensive than I thought it would be. I didn’t do much more other than walk to the waterfront and find a coffee shop to do some work at. A teacher at school had asked me to do some translation for her, and I knew with the traveling I had ahead of me, I would probably not get it done unless I did it on Monday, so I worked on that for a few hours and then headed back to the airport.
Union Station in Toronto
My flight left in the evening for Abu Dhabi at 10 PM with Etihad Airways and landed about 7PM on Tuesday evening. I stayed in Abu Dhabi for two days since Etihad currently has a promotion in which they give travelers flying through Abu Dhabi two free nights in a hotel. I got to my hotel Tuesday evening after an interesting drive in a taxi with an Ethiopian woman taxi driver who was an Orthodox Christian and liked to ask questions.
I was super excited about visiting Abu Dhabi, but I hadn’t planned much except one thing– my horseback ride in the desert. My family has always had a fascination with Arabian horses. Both of my parents had worked in Arizona for a time for a prestigious farm that bred high-dollar Arabians. My dad had been a groom and my mom a housemaid. We grew up with a love for Arabians, nervous and high strung though they are, fueled by reading books like The King of the Wind. In my 6th grade year I wrote a research paper on Arabian horses. A longtime dream of mine had been to ride an Arabian horse in the desert, so when I booked my stay in Abu Dhabi, I decided to check out the options for riding horses. Most of them were really expensive, but I found one place that had a promotion for moonlit rides in the desert for less than 30 dollars and booked it for Wednesday night.
Early Wednesday morning, I woke up at 3:30 when my sister called me.I read my Bible, and hung around my hotel room for a bit, trying to decide how early was too early to leave my hotel room. Finally, a little before 5, I set out. I walked about a kilometer down to the waterfront where a full moon was setting in the west and in the east, a faint pink light was coloring the sky. A soft scented wind came off the sea. For the longest time, I walked and walked and it felt like it was just me and the waterfront cats along a long, long road lit up by a dying moon. At that point, I told myself that if this was the only thing I experienced in Abu Dhabi, it was worth it.
I decided to head towards Yellowdot Cafe, a cafe I had seen on my maps that was open 24 hours. It was about 4 kilometers away but I had plenty of time and felt like walking. Along the waterfront, a wide footpath stretched for at least 5 miles, so walking was easy and free of traffic. After a breakfast of avocados and mushrooms on toast and a tall glass of orange juice, I decided to go to the Emirates Heritage Village, which was another 4 kilometers away. As the sun started to get hotter and hotter after breakfast, I started eyeing the little Lime E-scooters along the road, and wondering how to get a taxi from where I was. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to spend the time to figure out how to operate the scooters and pay for them and I was feeling stingy and didn’t want to get a taxi, but I was also getting hotter and hotter and tireder and tireder and grouchier and grouchier, with jet lag already setting in. Finally, about 8:30 I reached a place where a lot of Lime e-scooters had been parked and had a stern talking to with myself. If I could figure out how to operate these things, it would save me energy and lots of time. And it would be fun and adventurous. Honestly, I don’t know what my hangup was with not trying them before. The scooters were parked about 1 kilometer away from the Heritage Village, so I decided to try my luck. I bought 60 minutes worth of e-scooter driving for about 7 dollars and set off happily on my e-scooter although a little nervous since you were supposed to wear a helmet when driving them, and I didn’t have one. What if I got stopped and fined by these scary Arabic people? The scooter was fun to drive, but not very fast since it was in training mode because I was a new driver, but it got me there. I went to park it, and it wouldn’t let me. I only then realized there were certain areas you were allowed to park and right there obviously wasn’t one of those. I thought about just letting it run, but then I would lose all my minutes that I had paid for. And what if it somehow went on my record and I wouldn’t be allowed to drive one again? So, I searched for the nearest parking space, which happened to be…… right where I had gotten the scooter in the first place. There was nothing else I could do but take the scooter back and walk that long hot kilometer to Heritage Village. I really wanted to be grouchy, but I decided that this experience was simply a part of the story.
Heritage Village
By this time, I had firmly decided I would get a taxi and as I walked, I downloaded the app, only to realize I needed a UAE number to register. When I got to Heritage Village, I was trying to figure out where to enter when I heard a voice say, “Hello! You go in here!” It was a middle-aged Indian man, sitting under the shade.
“Thank you,” I said. “Can you tell me where I can get a taxi from here when I am finished?”
“I am here waiting for you!”
Enter Freddy.
When I finished my tour of the village, which was interesting, but even more tiring, I went back. True to his word, Freddy was waiting for me.
“Can you take me to Qasr Al Watan?” I asked.
Freddy was only happy to. “We are best friends,” he said. “I will take you anywhere,” he said. “I will drive you until 12 o’clock and you will pay me whatever you want, because we are friends!” I wasn’t quite as exuberant about our friendship as he was, but I agreed.
Freddy ended up taking me to two places that weren’t open yet, so in the end, I decided to go to the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque. I had originally planned to go there early the next morning while it was still dark since I wanted to see it lit up and I had something else planned for the evening, but according to Freddy the Grand Mosque wasn’t open early, so I decided to do that right away. I had planned to wear one of the longest dresses I had with me, and buy a scarf somewhere before I went since women have to cover their hair before going in. That scarf would then be my souvenir of Abu Dhabi. But when Freddy heard that I didn’t have anything yet, he had a solution all ready. In the trunk of his car, he had a pink dress with a hood all ready for American ladies in my predicament. I feebly protested and then put it on over my dress. The scarves available for sale before entering the mosque would probably be expensive, even if they were a lot prettier. The sad thing was this shade of pink was not one I enjoyed and even worse, it almost matched my face, which even though I had put on sunscreen, was pink from the heat and exertion of walking. The hood kept on blowing off, so I attached it with bobby pins, but I kept on looking at other beautiful scarves enviously and thinking of the one scarf I had almost bought at the Heritage Village. I decided, however, that the pink dress and Freddy were just another part of the story, just like the parking spot with the Lime scooter.
An Egyptian man working in the Heritage Villagethe Grand Mosque
The mosque was beautiful, confusing, and awe inspiring, with soaring minarets and domes. I couldn’t figure out, though, if anyone actually came to worship there or if it had just become another tourist spot. Also, there were so many tourists coming through that it almost spoiled the effect, with people taking selfies everywhere, including yours truly. I wanted to stay to hear the prayer call from there, but I was almost dead on my feet by now after more than 8 kilometers of walking.
After the mosque, I went back to the hotel for a nap to shake off the jetlag. I still didn’t have a ride to get to my horseback riding spot, and hesitated about asking Freddy since I was already getting a bit tired of his exuberance. At one point, he asked me if I was single. I said yes, wishing for the hundredth time for a pocket boyfriend for times like this. It would be nice to have a boyfriend that you could just pull out for times when you are passing through Middle Eastern or Indian cultures, and then neatly tuck him away once you got to Thailand. Any volunteers? But I couldn’t lie, and when Freddy heard I was single, he happily thrust out his hand to me in congratulations. I gingerly shook it.
I thought, however, that it might be easier to go with the taxi driver I already had instead of trying to find one in the bush, so I asked him, but Freddy had another customer for the evening. However, he nicely called up another driver and arranged for him to pick me up. I went back to the hotel, slept for a few hours and then ate supper in an outdoor restaurant where a bird pooped on me from several stories up. The first thing I noticed was a sudden spattering of white on my sleeve and the chair. I looked up and far, far above me, a dove gazed at me maliciously.
The driver came even earlier than expected. He was less chatty than Freddy, so I enjoyed the ride in peace. Earlier in the day, I got an email saying that because of recent rain, the ride had been moved from the desert to the beach. We got to the place way early and there in the middle of nowhere was a small trailer parked in the sand with a few horses saddled up beside it. Although I wasn’t scheduled until 7, they asked me if I wanted to go ahead and ride right away. I had been hoping to ride under the moon, but I decided a sunset ride on the beach would be almost as good, or better, so I said yes.
A horseback ride in the desert might seem boring or anticlimactic for some, but for me it was a golden moment I will remember all my life. I rode back and forth along the beach of a narrow lake (not the ocean, like I was hoping) on an Arabian horse while the sun shone red and gold in the west and finally dipped under the horizon. It wasn’t hot anymore; the air was dry and cool and fresh. Sometimes I galloped, and sometimes I only walked, breathing all of it in: the slight creak of the English saddle beneath me, the muffled thud of my horse’s hooves in the sand, the mild scent of sweaty horse, the distant murmur of voices every now and then, and then the long, lonely wail of the Maghrib prayer call drifting over the desert. I don’t know if I have ever heard anything quite so sad and lonely as that prayer call that evening.
The next morning I woke up early again because of a bad dream and then stayed awake because of jet lag. I packed all my bags before I left the hotel. This time, I had more of a plan. I walked along the waterfront, where again a dying moon and the rising sun hung in the sky.
I planned to sit and read for a bit along the benches there. This time, I was waylaid by a random man of indistinct age pushing a bicycle along with a carry-on bag hanging on the handlebars.
“Hello,” he said. “Where are you from?”
“USA,” I said.
“Oh,” he said. “I am from Jordan.” And continued to make small talk. I sat down, he sat down. I stood up, he stood up. He gave me a wafer. “Here,” he said. “Have this.”
“Oh dear, “ I thought. “Food. This is getting serious.” He continued to ask questions.
Finally, the inevitable question, “Are you married?”
I sighed, wistfully thinking of my nonexistent pocket boyfriend, and replied, “No.”
“How old are you?”
“33,” I said, after a moment’s hesitation.
There was a little silence, and then he shook his head slowly, “It is too much.”
I howled with laughter. “You mean that I am 33 and not married?” I asked gleefully. I didn’t wait to interpret his meaning much longer, but made my escape and hurried away, leaving him sitting on the bench.
I was still laughing about this when the next man said hello to me, and flashed him a smile I would normally not give to a strange man because I was still thinking about, “It is too much.” A similar scenario followed where he fell in step beside me and as soon as he found out I was from the US, tried to be friendly and asked for my phone number. I fled as soon as was remotely possible, and quickly made my way to the next Lime e-scooter where I could coast along in peace. Note: in neither of these circumstances did I feel unsafe but more like I was an opportunity with a “US green card” written all over me. Also, as with all my experiences in Abu Dhabi, I realize that I was only there for 2 days and was looking at the people there through the lens of my own cultures. I know I may have misinterpreted things.
My goal, after escaping and reading for a while on a bench far down the road, was to find a place to drink Arabic coffee. I had read about it the day before and wanted to try it. I hummed along on my scooter until I found the place but it wouldn’t open until 8. I looped back to a Dunkin Donuts where I bought two donuts and used the bathroom. Yes, yes, I know. I was in Abu Dhabi and I ate donuts?! From Dunkin Donuts?! You must remember that there wasn’t much open at that time in the morning. I had also been hungry for donuts ever since Toronto and decided I could have donuts if I wanted them. At 8:00 sharp I was at Cafe Bateel for my coffee. They were the only ones that I could find on my maps that had Arabic coffee FOR SURE. This was also the second time in a month that I ordered something without figuring out what the price was beforehand. Ooops.
It was lovely. I sat on the balcony and they served the coffee in a silver flask with dates on the side. It tasted more like a spiced tea, actually, with mild, refreshing overtones. I feel quite professional saying that, but honestly that is only how I imagined it to be. I really have no idea how to describe it, but “mild, refreshing overtones” sounds quite professional, no?
I zipped back to my hotel on a Lime e-scooter. I was really getting to be good friends with those little things. I checked out of the hotel and Freddy picked me up as planned. We ended up going to various places like the Emirates palace and the gold souks that I had not planned to go. I think Freddy thought of himself as my tour guide and was determined to give me the best experience possible. He would take pictures of me and tell me about the different sights. Really, he was trying to be nice, too nice, but I wasn’t feeling very nice. I wanted to wander around at my own pace and look at things and take pictures my way without a random man telling me not to trip on the pavement or telling me to pose here or there for a picture. Were it for a longer time, I eventually would have gone off on my own again, but I was heading to the airport in an hour or so, and needed a ride. If I had had more time to research, I would have checked the buses out as well.
I got to the airport around 12:30. My flight left a little before 3 and I landed in Bangkok around midnight. I slept almost the entire flight, and then sprawled out on a bench in the airport and slept until I could check in for my flight to Chiang Mai. I could hear Thai all around me and no strange men asked me for my phone number. I was home again.
Abu Dhabi now seems far away, but I would love to visit it again, or another Middle Eastern country. I was sad that it seemed like I could never fully touch the culture of the citizens of Abu Dhabi. Most of the people I interacted with– taxi drivers, restaurant workers, hotel staff– were expat workers from countries like India, Ethiopia, Jordan, Egypt, the Philippines, and more. Even many of the people I saw walking on the street were not natives, or didn’t seem so to me. It seemed like the people of Abu Dhabi sat behind a glass wall of wealth, watching in seclusion as the rest of the world went by.
In going home this last time, I was struck by how the people of Kansas matched their land. Maps of Kansas roads, as all Kansas natives know, are straight and square. Only rarely is there a curve. If there is, everyone knows about it. The houses and the people of Kansas are like that too: straight, unbending, sure, confident, honest, hardworking, and perhaps lacking a little in imagination at times.
Thailand, on the other hand, is a map of squiggles and randomness. The people are like that as well: creative, good at avoiding difficulties, flexible, and masters of improvisation.
Abu Dhabi was graceful, soaring, and silent, with rich lines arching into a hazy desert sky. I wonder now if the people of Abu Dhabi are like their land: tall, mysterious, and lonely.
At 4:30 AM, the airport is a wakening place. We stand in crooked lines of humanity, beneath the hum of morning announcements, hiding polished yawns behind one hand, clutching our carry-ons in the other. We are going places– our destinations await across the criss-crossed lines of the globe, but now we inch forward one by one to show TSA our ID. We are teachers and farmers, lawyers and janitors, basketball players and Wal Mart employees, but this morning we dance a slow shuffle in our stocking feet on the floor of Dwight D. Eisenhower.
I am of the belief that sequels are never as good as the originals. In spite of this, I have taken it upon myself to add a second installment to Meditations of the Milkmaid since it was begging me to write it and because for too long I have been writing it in my head, which can be a dangerous pastime, as you will see below. The previous installment can be read here
And it came to pass in the 8th year of the Reign of King Vajilalongkorn that the Eldest Daughter of Paul and the Third Daughter of Daniel spake to one another again and said, “Let us again rise and go to the Land of our Fathers, for we are Weary and our School is closed and the time of the Great Smoke and Heat has come. And behold, in the Land of our Fathers the Singing of the Birds is at Hand. It is time to rest from our Teaching and be Normal People for a Time and a Half.” So, the Eldest Daughter of Paul traveled to her Home in Oregon. And the Third Daughter of Daniel traveled to her Home in Kansas where she tried to be a Normal Person and not embarrass the Fourth Daughter of Daniel by wearing clothes with Unironed Hems, or Sweatpants under her Dress.
And the Third Daughter of Daniel traveled thus. She passed from the Kingdom of Thailand through the Land of Deserts, and then the Third Daughter of Daniel traveled to the Land of Guys Mills to visit the Eldest Daughter of Jacob. For the Third Daughter of Daniel likes to Spice Up her Travels and visit Other Places on her way To and Fro each year.
And she visited the Eldest Daughter of Jacob in the Land of Guys Mills and the Land of Guys Mills was to her as the Wood Between the Worlds. And she rested there for three days. For the Third Daughter of Daniel was confused, for her Body thought that it was American, and her Brain thought that it was Thai, and her Phone thought it was Polish. And she consorted with a great many Poets in that Land and was astounded at how much Poets talk because the Third Daughter of Daniel always thought Poets would be Quiet and Mysterious. And there she was fed Coffee and Poetry and Chocolate until she was much Fortified, for there are few things that Fortify as much as Coffee and Poetry and Chocolate. And she left the Wood Between the Worlds much Encouraged and flew to the Land of her Fathers and rested from wandering to and fro upon the Earth.
And as she stayed in the House of her Father, the Third Daughter of Daniel and the Fourth Daughter of Daniel had a Vehement Argument, for arguing is a favorite pastime of the Fourth Daughter of Daniel. And they argued about Which Year the Daughters of Daniel were gifted Bedside Lamps for their Christmas Gifts. For in times past, the Youngest Daughters of Daniel had a very Great Imagination but they did not have a Lamp beside their Bed. And this is Treacherous, for the Youngest Daughters of Daniel liked to read Books at Night in Bed, which is a Very Worthy Pastime, but it is not a Good Idea to read the Hound of the Baskervilles at Night in a Bed that does not have a Lamp beside the Bed. And the Light Switch on the Wall was Very, Very Far Away and the Journey was Treacherous, because of the Something under the Bed that would pull their Toes as they passed, or the Something in the Hall close to the Light Switch. And the Daughters of Daniel would fight about whose turn it was to take the Treacherous Journey, and the Third Daughter of Daniel announced that they would write to the President and tell him to invent a Remote for Light Switches, and the Fourth Daughter of Daniel was of Gullible Spirit and thought that they would do so but they had no Address. And so, it was a Wonderful Thing when Bedside Lamps appeared at Christmastime instead, but to this day, the Third Daughter of Daniel will Periodically check under her Bed for Somethings or stand a Foot away from the Bed and jump into it.
And the Third and Fourth Daughter of Daniel argued about which year the Bedside Lamps appeared. And the Third Daughter of Daniel thought to herself, These Things should be recorded, for it would be Sad if the House of Daniel would forget these things. And so, she betook it upon herself to record some of the Stories of the House of Daniel. And these are the Stories the Third Daughter of Daniel recorded.
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And it came to pass in the Early Days, that Mice laid siege upon the House of Daniel. Now, the Wife of Daniel was Exceedingly Fearful of Mice, as was the Second Daughter of Daniel. And the Wife of Daniel spake to her Son and said, Son, behold, here are thy Traps, and here is the Peanut Butter. For every mouse that thou slayest, I will pay thee in Full. And the Son of Daniel straightway arose and slew a Mouse. And he went to feed the Mouse to the Cats, but alas, the Son of Daniel had Compassion on the Cats for the Cats were many and there was only one Mouse. And the Son of Daniel felt that it would be Unfair for only One Cat to have a Mouse, for the Son of Daniel was very Young and had not yet learned that the World is mostly Cruel and Unfair. So the Son of Daniel thought to himself, I will put the Dead Mouse in a Can and I will keep all the Mice I slay in my Can and when I have enough Mice to feed all the Cats, I will feed them all At Once. Thus saying in his Heart, he put the Can with his Dead Mouse under the Sink. And it came to pass as he did so, the Wife of Daniel entered the room and saw what he did, and to this Day, the Wife of Daniel cannot speak of this without Great Shudderings and Sighs of Relief.
And it came to pass that the Third Daughter of Daniel was born on a Dark and Stormy Night with many Tornadoes across the Land. Now, the House of Daniel was not of the Superstitious Nature, but it seemed that in the Younger Days of the Third Daughter of Daniel, she was of Fierce and Stormy Temperament. And one Day, as the Third Daughter of Daniel grew Fierce and Stormy, the Second Daughter of Daniel waxed Poetic and wrote a Poem about the Third Daughter of Daniel when she was of Angry Countenance. And the Second Daughter of Daniel took the poem and pinned it onto the Clothes Line with a Clothes Pin where the Third Daughter of Daniel would be sure to see it, but lo, the Second Daughter of Daniel forgot that they lived in the Land of Perpetual Wind, for alas, the Wind blew the Poem off the Clothes Line. And the Wind blew the Poem over the Road and into the Yard of the House of Harley, the Brother of the Mother of the Wife of Daniel. And Susie, the Wife of Harley, found the Poem written on a Pink Paper. And the Wife of Harley kept the Poem in her Scrapbook and it is there to this Day in the Archives of the Family of Harley. And the Second Daughter of Daniel was much embarrassed and to this Day she does not write Poetry, but the Third Daughter of Daniel does, but it is not as Stormy as one might think, for the Third Daughter of Daniel has mellowed over the Many Years.
But as she mellowed, the Third Daughter of Daniel began to spend Much Time in her Head. And she is of the belief that it is a Very Beautiful Place to live, but living in One’s Head can cause Problems. For in the Days that the Third Daughter of Daniel was a Milkmaid, there was a Cow of Vicious Tail. And behold, this Cow would slap her Tail in the Face of the Milkmaid as she milked, and the Milkmaid was wroth and tied the Tail to the Rail. And the Milkmaid was spending Time in her Head and she forgot that she had Tied the Tail to the Rail and she opened the Gate to let the Cows out of the Barn. And lo, there was a great Crack and a Spurting of Blood and the Cow went out of the Barn but its Tail did not, but stayed tied to the Rail. And that is the End of the Tale of the End of the Tail.
And it came to pass that the Eldest Daughter of Daniel fell in love with the Son of Lloyd and they were betrothed and married and moved to their own home. And it was a Hot Summer Day and the Eldest Daughter of Daniel was at Home alone and as she watered the Flowers, she saw that the Truck that the Son of Lloyd drove to his job was coming down the Road, and she knew that it was the Son of Lloyd passing the Home. And the Eldest Daughter of Daniel girded up her Loins and she took up her Hose and hastened to the End of the Lane and as the Truck of the Son of Lloyd passed, she lifted the Hose and sprayed the Truck, but alas, to her Dismay, it was not the Son of Lloyd himself, but his Boss. And her Countenance reddened and she was much embarrassed.
And in his Younger Days, the Son of Daniel was of Very Curious and Obstinate Nature, and in those days the House of Daniel had a Cow whose Name was Harmony, but Harmony was not a Harmonious Cow, but of Fierce Temperament, rivalling only the Third Daughter of Daniel. Now it came to pass that the Time of Cows was upon Harmony and she conceived and brought forth a Baby Calf. And Daniel the Son of Mark told his Son, Thou shalt not enter into the Cow Pen for the Mother Cow is Exceedingly Angry. But the Heart of the Son of Daniel was hardened and he was deaf to the Instruction of his Father. And the Son of Daniel entered the Cow Pen and the Cow chased him. And it happened that there was a Manure Spreader in the Cow Pen and as the Cow chased him, the Son of Daniel ran and leapt into the Manure Spreader. And there arose a Great Smell, but he thought he was safe until he was stung by a Very Great Number of Very Angry Wasps in the Manure Spreader. And he lifted up his Voice, and great was the Roaring of the Son of Daniel.
Thus end the Meditations of the Milkmaid in the 8th Year of the Reign of King Vajilalongkorn. And it is titled thus because no matter how many Degrees the Milkmaid might earn, or Languages she might speak, she will always, in her Mind, be a Milkmaid of about 15 years of age.
I will go wandering, I said. Do not wait for me. Where will you go? I will wander the path where the south wind sings; I will travel the trail where the south wind blows. And where does the south wind blow? The south wind blows where the tallgrass weeps; The south wind sings where the tallgrass sighs. And where does the tallgrass sigh? The tallgrass sighs where the coyote roams; The tallgrass weeps where the coyote cries. And where does the coyote cry? The coyote cries where the tumbleweed tumbles; The coyote roams where the tumbleweed grows. And where does the tumbleweed grow? The tumbleweed grows where the south wind sings; The tumbleweed tumbles where the south wind blows.
Wild March winds pull the soft edges of latent memory, folding me in. I swing in the grief of empty rooms and echoing corridors, scattered playthings and childish notes on yellowed paper. A memory is a ghost, elusive and sacred, stealing through the halls of my mind; now far away and faint, now slipping its many-colored fingers into mine. A memory is a ghost and I am a yearning child on tiptoe looking through a dark window only to see my reflection staring back at me.
At 4:00 AM when I am not there, I look at the maps again, at the blue lines of roads that tangle through the province, the curves, the cliffs, the paths that weave through the forests and mountains of Mae Hong Son. But maps do not show the lines those roads have etched inside of me the same way my veins throb through me, blue and yearning.
I have become the soft map of each kilometer flung from mountain to hill to cliff to valley. I carry you inside of me, every dusty road, every lonely forest, every solitary peak traced upon the map of my body, alive and sleepless on the other side of the world.
Trace the blue-green veins on the naked wrist where life throbs through its conduits, circling; trace the flight of the far-soaring swallow black against the flame of golden sun. Trace the line of the wet river, running through the valley, and as you do so, say to yourself, “I am alive.” And then, trace a line through the thick-lipped dust, the rain-hungry soil. Lift your finger to the edge of the smoky horizon where at night the ridges flare in startling flame; trace the burning circle of the dying sun that dies every day, and through parched lips, say to yourself, very softly, “I am alive.”
Sit with your sorrow at the end of the day. Do not fear it, nor give way to it, by letting it slip softly over your head like tides that sleeping are awake. Sit with your sorrow and talk with it like a stranger that has arrived, unannounced, at your door in waning light. Do not turn it away; stay with it through the lucid hours of the night, and know your sorrow well. Listen to what it has to say, touch it in the dark, the contours of its rugged face. Then when the morning comes with silver ray perhaps your sorrow will go. Perhaps it will stay.
insearchofabrook 