One-Sentence Journal, Week Thirty-Six

  1. 09/22/2014:  On the first day of Fall I paused creekside at the turnaround point of my evening hike and there, in the shallows, was a snake desperately engaged in landing a sizable — to him (her?) anyway — fish.
  2. 09/23/2014:  This evening I went back to the same spot along the creek but snake and fish were both gone; after some bushwacking and wet shoes and socks I found a beautiful little zen-like rock garden hidden away in the stream, and I felt somehow hopeful.
  3. 09/24/2014:  Sweaty after my hike on a sunny evening while unlocking my car at the trailhead, I heard a mountain bike rider remark to his companion as they passed, “It’s so nice out I don’t want to get off my bike!” and I couldn’t agree more.
  4. 09/25/2014:  Two young women, who Julia witnessed being turned away from the Albertson’s pharmacy, were in the parking lot trying to raise $5 more to get their mother’s prescription filled, so I seized the opportunity to pay forward my benefactor from last week’s generosity.
  5. 09/26/2014:  I wrote the date four or five times today for various reasons, and looking at the calendar now I believe this is the first time I’ve gotten it right.
  6. 09/27/2014:  Heavy dark clouds, intermittent rain, and blustery winds made it an easy decision to skip hiking in favor of eating pizza for lunch with my mom instead.
  7. 09/28/2014:  I almost feel guilty for the relief I often feel at last minute band practice cancellations, if only because at this point I’d rather be recording what we have been working on for months and months or crushing it live, even though I still have finish work to do on some of the stupid lyrics.

 

Author: Chris

Chris La Tray is a writer, a walker, and a photographer. He is an enrolled member of the Little Shell Tribe of Chippewa Indians and lives in Missoula, MT.

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