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forgive those who trespass against us.
I mouthed the words without sound. Deliver us from evil. It
was the best I could do.
Y
thursday, june 6, 10:30 a.m.
Exercise had been in short supply all week, and I needed some.
It was either that or start drinking martinis before noon. In the
softness of that hazy morning, I huffed my way up Day Road on
my bike, six miles into the ride, feeling worn and off my game
but relieved to be alone. I had to dismount at the entrance to the
vineyard for a few pulls at my water bottle. I envy the thoughtless
grace of riders who can steer with their knees, clipping along at
A Final Arc of Sky 123
twenty miles per hour, guzzling water and popping energy bars
like they re at their own kitchen tables.
But the vineyard is a natural place to stop, even if you re not
a klutz. Heading east on Day Road, you climb to it gradually,
emerging from the shade of trees. As you cut out of the steady
stream of traffic into the lip of gravel at the entrance, light blasts
at you from three corners of the compass you enter big sky,
and something in your cells wells up. Sap, perhaps. Behind the
padlocked gate, tidy rows of vines fall away to the south, down a
mild slope. There s an empty fruit stand where they sell berries
by the flat in the summer beautiful, ephemeral raspberries that
sing on the tongue with cream, ripe with juice that oozes out
and stains your palms no matter how gently you handle them.
Their season here is so brief you can doze off and miss it.
Once, on a ride with my sons, Gabe and I amused our-
selves by naming the spots in our rural-esque neighborhood
that we each thought had the most power. Our separate lists
dovetailed quite a bit, and the places we take water breaks when
we re riding tended to be on them, including the entrance to
the vineyard. It mesmerizes me a little, the idea that land itself
has power and that some points on the land, perfectly ordinary
points, telegraph more power than others.
My children, of course, were divided on the issue. Kieran
rolled his eyes at us. His concept of power runs more to the
automotive.
 See one tree, you ve seen  em all, he d said cheerfully,
showing nature his back. His eye, as always, was on the rolling
iron.
Away to the west, above where Day Road drops back down
toward the highway, you can see the Olympics. But clouds ob-
scure the mountains so often in western Washington that when
it s clear, they can sneak up on you. Oh, good, I thought on that
June day, you guys are still there. I could see significant snowpack
124 Jennifer Culkin
clinging to the slopes. Water for the long, dry summer ahead,
hung out into thin air like full saddlebags.
My mother hung out there, too, drugged and ventilated.
The hospital s coordinates fixed her in space to the southwest,
in the general direction of the Olympics. Close, as the crow
flies. Minutes in the helicopter. But because of the peculiari-
ties of topography, because of the nature of islands, inlets, and
peninsulas, it was thirty miles by road. I wondered, with a hint
of an ache in my gut, how much longer I would be able to place
her anywhere.
Like the mountains, she was caught between heaven and
earth. This can t go on, Mom, I thought.
I was due at the hospital I had to get going. I finished my
water and mounted up for the last third of a mile to the crest
of the hill.
As I stood up for the steeper bit right at the top, I was half
congratulating myself for how well I was managing overall. I m
used to thinking in an analytical way about life s stressors; it s
one of the things nurses do. Hour after hour at bedsides, talking
to people, trying to relieve their pain, trying to ameliorate some
of their anxieties, meeting their families and friends, you get a
feel for what s at work in their lives, and also for what coping
abilities they bring to the table. It s a dynamic thing; a manage-
able challenge one week can be overwhelming the next. Add
enough stressors, and anyone will melt down.
Coping depends on a kind of dance, a dance between ev-
erything under the sun that taxes a person and the resources
that person can summon to deal with it all. By resources I mean
extrinsics, like money, shelter, a social network, physical en-
ergy. I also mean intrinsics: a sense of humor, knowledge, and
optimism. Qualities that are synthesized by neurotransmitters
in your brain, shaped through experience, genetics, and luck.
A Final Arc of Sky 125
Sometimes you cope through plain stubbornness, which is an-
other name for persistence.
The mortal illness of a parent ranks right up there on the
life list of stressors. But I was handling it. There I was, taking
care of myself, getting my ride in on a sweet June day. I was still
able to luxuriate in the sun on my face. The hill was getting to
me sweat drenched the high-tech fabric of my tank top, and
there was that little worm of nausea in the pit of my stomach.
But it was only a few more pedal strokes to the top. This ain t [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]