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July 21, 2017

Spork Blues

By Maryanna Gabriel

The days whirl by. Why do they? I would just  like to jump on the tail of at least one day and hang on to it for dear life with the thought that time might slow. I have been doing careful walks in the morning as I gingerly test my back and I am starting to feel my confidence build. I realize that carrying the pack is an additional 12-14 pounds on my knees which is a strain. Today I found a free flower pot that I would never have noticed from my car. I have also been going up hills to build my cardio. I am noticing that I simply have to keep my pack zippers shut. I have lost my spork. Good heavens. I think I
remember where that 
might have happened. I actually do find the spork when I return to look for it. My pack is a friend I don't know very well and clearly I have to baton down the hatches. For now I move my spork to a different place. I am finding that I am exploring where I live. I have just found the most amazing place that I never knew existed and I am vowing to return to paint it. But not now. I don't have time. I am trying not to panic about that and think that another year of preparation would not be amiss. Then I find I have lost my hat. I tied it to the pack. It is nowhere. I return to where I think that might be and I cannot find it. It is camouflage colour. What I do find instead is an another amazing view. I realize I can't keep losing equipment. I just can't afford it. On the Camino it could lead to disaster. What no sun hat? After several days of denial I return again to look for my hat and as I pack my lunch I think now I really have lost my spork. I try not to go into a deep depression. I find my spork in a tricky bag and calm down.