The Mint Patch Monologue

Author: Sarah Justice

  • Pencil Season

    I have had the aches and pains of nostalgia all week. I am plagued with longing for a time before I knew of the cruelness of life, and the pressures of responsibilities. A time when all I had to do was change into my swim suit (as long as time and temperature said it was at least 80 degrees) and my mother would drive us to the pool. I tried to recreate that for myself this summer, by spending every free moment I had swimming at the same public pool, the one mom would take us to every free summer day we had (which was many, every year.) She was a teacher so we spent our summers off together lounging, tanning, and doing lots of jumping in with our noses pinched. I never wanted to leave, and one more jump was always accepted as two or three more jumps in to the crystal water. I hadn’t handed over a five dollar bill to enter the pool for the day in 25 years, at least, until this past summer. I put fifty dollars in $5 bills into my purse in June and went every single chance I got. I swam laps, I jumped off the diving board, I read books, I cheered on kids who were scared, I watched them make friends, I saw dads be good dads, I witnessed pure human joy, and felt that joy myself too. The pool exists in a moment in time, that is untainted by time; simple floaties on little arms, hot dogs from the concession stand, cannonballs, belly flops, watchful lifeguards, and adults and kids alike sharing the understanding of what’s REALLY fun. I walked away from the pool for the last time this year on Sunday, my last free day before school started back.

    The pool always closes the day before the first day of school, probably because the lifeguards are students too. This is a part of the changing of the seasons, as happy as I am to welcome one I am also sad to let go of the other. Even letting go of winter leaves me sad knowing I will not see the pink sunrise on snow for another long while, and I miss my sweaters and my faithful electric blanket. But with change being life’s dearest constant I do my best to embrace what is new, again.

    This brings us to something I am happy to share with you, my pencil collection. It is simple, you see the middle school is a block over or so from my house, and for many years now my evening walks consist of picking up perfectly good pencils I find on the ground. This “hobby” of mine started when we moved into our house, on my walks I couldn’t help but to notice the litter of pencils all along the school grounds. I decided one day to pick them up and bring them home.

    Little genius tools, they are… writers’ tools, instruments of knowledge, understanding, and learning. Pure, and in no need of upgrades. A solemn reminder to me that keyboards haven’t stopped the practice of drawing letters on a page. They need sharpened, can be broken, and come in different styles, each one branded with it’s maker’s name. Rarely but still, some are found with deep bite marks, perhaps from the more nervous students, or ones who aren’t (middle schoolers are wild cards.)

    All in a week’s time I have gone from swimming back to pencil hunting for another season, a transition that has left me wading through nostalgia for my own first days back to school. For now, the days are still long as the seasons overlap. The garden is still thriving although the bean vines are turning yellow, and the tomato stalks are getting woody. Tomorrow is the first football game and I will likely go, if just to soak up a sense of belonging and to remember a world that existed before. As the lines on my face become drawn by the pencils of time, so do my memories multiply. For now I will be grateful for all of the watermelon in the world until it’s time to embrace the pumpkin spice.

    Thank you for reading, drop me a line sometime… I DO love to chat!

    justicesarah67@yahoo.com

  • lighting the way

    My neighbor installed flood lights a few years ago, they come on automatically at dark and are there to illuminate their back yard storage building for security. The problem with the building is that is is in the direction of my back yard, and my bedroom window. Anytime I want to build a fire and relax, I’m sometimes ran indoors by the artificial light pouring into the night outside. Some spots are shaded when the foliage in the heat of summer is at it’s peak, sometimes I can angle my chair to avoid it’s distraction. It’s just a fact of living in a neighborhood. However, there are comforting things I enjoy, the neighborhood is familiar to me and feels peaceful when everyone joins in turning in for quiet nights when all you can hear are crickets because it’s everyone’s collective bedtime. When a violent thunderstorm rolls in and everyone makes their way to the front porch to watch it feels like we’re all fans of the same team, just watching together.  There are good things and not so good things about anywhere you choose to  live, I deal with a bit of traffic, and a flood of light after the sun sets naturally.

    My curiosity to unscrew the lights myself or aim my nephew’s BB gun in their direction changed last year when hurricane Helene made landfall in September. I have lived in eastern Kentucky all my life and have only ever experienced long rainy days after a hurricane, we are far too inland for anything more than that. But last year was different, and as North Carolina flooded major wind and strong storms hit us here too, enough to knock my power out for 3 solid days. I remember seeing a purple sky and then everything just went dark. The hum of the refrigerator stopped, the air conditioner stood still, and battery preservation took top priority. Everything I thought to do required power or internet and I felt humbled to acknowledge my own dependence on electricity. Luckily I have been collecting taper candles and wall sconces from estate sales for years, interior illumination was no problem for me until it was time for bed. I should include that on this particular Friday, Saturday and Sunday I was alone. Chris was on tour at the time so it was just me and my perfect companion Percy to brave the dark and quiet days and nights.

    After a trip to the store for ice and a full tank of gas I settled in, and the sun went down. At bedtime I snuffed out all open flames and crawled under the covers. I felt lonely, the stillness was unsettling. Restless, I peeled back my curtains and saw the neighbor’s floodlights independently at work, the only light under the blanket of blackness for miles surrounding me. The light was grounding and comforting, a sweetness in the bitter. A constant in the face of disaster, a reminder that we were so lucky compared to those that had lost everything, even their homes. Throughout the night if I were to stir, the steady stream of warm light entering my dwelling place granted me my barring again. What I had once considered a nuisance became an anchor.

    I was reminded of this last night, in an unforgiving heat wave I had enough light to water my garden after 10pm, once the temperatures broke from being in the 90s,  shortly after the sun set.  The floodlights are my little moons now, there because we need them sometimes, how lucky we are.

    Thank you for reading, drop me a line sometime… I DO love to chat!

    justicesarah67@yahoo.com