This is the spot where I had my stroke a little over a month ago: in the parking lot of a shopping center in Tahoe, right outside a hardware store. Today was my first time back to visit the spot where the world tilted and changed me forever. I imagined how the moment would unravel–would I quietly trace the path from the car, across the parking lot to the hardware store? Would I ponder the weeks that have gone by? What would I feel? Regardless of the details of the moment, I fully thought it would be a large commemorative opportunity.
After parking the car, I stepped out and took a few pictures while my friend retrieved her baby from the car seat. I was done taking pictures well before she’d unstrapped her child. Together, we walked to the wall ledge in front of the hardware store, where a month ago I’d sat, eyes closed wondering why I was seeing double and feeling so…WEIRD. I paused for a few seconds and pointed at that exact spot now occupied by two red snow blowers.
And that was it.
We continued to the grocery store where we picked up snacks to eat, ingredients for dinner, and a few other odds and ends–it was an entirely grounded outing. Not very spiritual as I had expected.
I thought I was connected to that place in the parking lot, as it holds a clear picture in my heart…but I am not, at least in real life. It was a weird sense of disconnect, one that left me grasping for a sense of place. Again, as before, I’m feeling lost here in Tahoe, not even picking up a book, and blogging only reluctantly. Instead, I am watching movies, in a further sense of disconnect from the environs.
More significant is waiting for snow that is predicted but never arrives. The aging snow that does lie in drifts around the house are stubborn icy piles that at a distance look so soft but up close look like bark-spotted snow cones. It’s raining in the Bay Area, but somehow it does not snow here.