“I Saved a Crawdad”

Never has the question, “How are you?” been so difficult to answer.  Good? Not totally.  Bad?  Also not an accurate summation. Thankful?  Always, everyday, as they say, there’s always something to be thankful for, a practice which has its own unique power in and of itself. But the word that sums up this year for me is “weary!”  I feel the weight of a very heavy cloak of weariness on me, which grows with each passing day, the result of endless months of being on alert due to Covid, and all the protocol entailed in staying safe for yourself and others, along with the sadness in thinking of the approximately 220,000 who have succumbed to this unrelenting virus in the US alone, the horrific race riots and unjustified deaths, the unsettling and downright frightening political situation, the catastrophic and unyielding onslaught of the fires and the resulting debilitating, hazardous air quality, and all the personal losses associated with this maelstrom.

The whole experience has slowed me down – made me ever so much more thoughtful about what it really means to be alive, and of course, the feeling of being grateful for all that is simple and at our disposal all the time. For me this includes any walk outside, noticing the delightful antics of animals and insects, the beauty and perfection of any flower, sunsets, sunrises, our pets, our relationships, accessible under careful Covid guidelines or virtually, and books, lots of books, my favorite music, the weekly visits to my most favorite place, the family cabin, nestled among majestic pines and in large part untouched by time with so many memories, the refreshing river nearby, and the inherent natural beauty of the entire area, and of course this list goes on endlessly,  and is different for each and every one of us.

And, then, there are specific days that stick out, when something truly magical happens.  Such was the case when our library reopened to one hour scheduled visits.  Under a hazy, smoky sky, I headed to my long awaited and missed visit to the library, where I checked out the maximum number of books, sauntering down all the aisles, soaking in the smells and the uplifting possibilities of so many books!

After checking out my chosen books, I decided to keep my mask on and walk around the duck pond in back, in spite of the unhealthy air quality.  After so many days of being housebound, I marveled at the ducks and the birds in and along the length of the entire pond, oblivious to the smoky haze, the reflections of the trees in the water, the splashing water of the fountain, remembering nostalgically the frequent trips here with my children long ago, and lest I become too sad I headed back to the car, stopping to read a plaque on a boulder, dedicated by a son to his mother whom he thanked for her encouragement and love, with her most often used words of “Never Give Up,” etched boldly into the rock. Smiling, I straightened up but something caught my eye right below the commemoration, on the ground.  The small little “being” was on its back with its little feet moving furiously as it was trying to right itself.  I bent down and told him to “not give up.” I spoke softly, informing him that I needed to get something to scoop him up and put him back in the pond where I’m pretty sure he belonged.  (Yes, I could have done this with my bare hands, but pandemic or no pandemic, I’m still squeamish about such things.)

At the car, I met a very friendly city worker, and as it is my nature to talk to any and all strangers, I relayed to him what I saw and how, with plastic bag in hand, I was headed back to save the little creature. He decided to follow me, especially since I had no idea what it was – a cross between a lobster and crab is what I told him.

Once we arrived the “creature” had righted itself but was very wobbly and not headed to the pond.  My new friend recognized it immediately as a crawdad.  He scooped it up and gently put it in the pond where it swam away.

Our conversation continued as he filled me in on his life growing up in Fairfield, his ventures with his dad to catch crawdads and then have crawdad feasts. Curious as to how they tasted, I asked if they tasted like lobster. His retort was accompanied by a chuckle, a pretty wide smile, and, “Nothing tastes like lobster.”

We also realized that we had friends in common, one with whom I was going to be talking to, so I promised to pass on his regards.  I thanked him for his help, and wished him a good day, and my usual comment these days of  “Stay Safe.”

The whole incident truly lifted my spirits, and as I reviewed it all in my head, I knew why.  This long siege since March has curtailed my activity level, causing me to slow down, and when you slow down you notice so much more, always there, but we’re often too much in a hurry or busy to notice.

Now, I had, in just a mere two hours, visited the sorely missed library, checked out new books, walked outside, met and had a very lighthearted conversation with a kind and helpful human being, and, most of all, I saved a crawdad!!! It is truly in the simplicity of life where we can find a peace that has the power to lift us up out of the dread that we may all be feeling these days.