From the Balcony
Balcony
The pool is filling. I've been watching it from my 11th floor balcony for the past two days. It's almost full. Just another day, I guess, and it will be brimming with clean water. It's an interesting process - commissioning (a sailing term) the pool. It's been covered all winter. I don't understand why exactly, since the pool in a sister building just two blocks north of here wasn't covered and it stayed magnificently clean and shimmery all winter. On Monday, the crew here removed the cover to reveal a most slimy, grotesque scum covered body of water, darker than army green. It took three days to drain it, power-wash the bottom and sides before turning on the single faucet at the deep end to refill her. When you're retired, you have time to notice these things. Oh, well.
Now, this afternoon I'm forced to retreat from the balcony as a torrential storm approaches from west, blowing heavy steel gray thundering clouds across my view, ushering in dancing raining. Seating cushions may fly but they'll stay safely within the confines of the railing as was proven last week when 40 know winds blew through. Thank the gods for small favors as my mom used to say. The good news is that our potted plants will get watered.
Why sit on the balcony when I could sit in air-conditioning. For me, it's a place to think, a place to write. It's a perspective on the world above the tree line that is just not the same as the one from the ground. I'm tired of my office confinement, working on a small consulting project. Hours in "the chair" are just too much like the work I retired from. So, like yoga that stretches my body (I did, finally after years of resistance, succumb to twice a week practices), I find the balcony a place to stretch my mind, a place to find inspiration (a search I've been on for many years).I find sitting on the balcony soothing. It's not like the quiet of a cabin in the woods far away from everyone. The hum of our small Crystal City fills the air. I can see the Potomac River and watch planes take off from the airport next to it. But, I don't hear the blasts of their engines; I just see them reaching up and cutting through the sky. Then I look down from my balcony. I see folks of all ages and nationalities (this is DC, you know) strolling the grounds, walking their dogs, grilling their dinners and lounging in overstuffed, cushy chairs and couches on the patio in front of the massive, stone surrounded gas fire place. All this, along with the filling pool, is wedged between the two large wings of our 12 story building. I'm part of a community, but at the same time not part of it. It's reassuring for some strange reason.
You know Amazon is coming to our neighborhood. Buildings are being rehabbed, some are in the midst of demolish-on, ready to be replaced with brighter, taller, and sleeker offices and residences. But the good news is we'll have everything we need within three blocks when the movie theater and Trader Joe's opens next year (those are two places we still to drive to). For me, it's a very exciting to live in, a place that is changing. It frees me from having to change by moving again. As you may know in the past 25 years we've lived three cities and in least 10 locations. This is our third time in this building we now call home. Living here, keeps me from feeling left out and forgotten now that we're not sailing (talk about constant change!) or working full time. We are in the middle of something BIG!
Speaking of sailing, we drove out to Annapolis this morning to check on Dolce Vento, still on jack stands in the boat yard, waiting patiently for someone to fall in love with her like we did. John (the man who only sailed because he loves me) sighed at the sight of her. He gave me that look, the look that says, "Can't we sail again, I miss it so." I, the sailor who stubbornly thought she's had enough of it forever, but now away from it all on land for nine months, said, "OK. OK. Maybe after we sell this boat, we could maybe consider a small sail boat for just sailing the Bay like we used to do.
"I'm back on the balcony now, the storm has passed. Dare I admit that I'm I could change my mind again?