I promised myself I’d write at least once a month after I re-revved that engine, not necessarily to reach a finished product, I told myself, but to take advantage of the extensive benefits the writing process allows. Creative brain use. Deeper thinking. Questioning. Listening. Dreaming. Mostly living, experiencing, doing. But it’s 8 PM on May 31 and I’m just now realizing how important it is for me to hit a self-imposed arbitrary creation deadline. And if I don’t hold myself accountable, well that my friends, is what we call a slippery slope.

Sure, the process began. But the finger to keyboard part just three days ago. I didn’t leave myself nearly enough time. I write in chunks. Disorganized chunks found on multiple pieces of paper, voice memos, text messages and emails to myself, mental notes (basically useless), memories, other people’s memories, photographs, Marco Polos, artifacts, search histories. It takes a bit more than three days to make sense of all that noise.

So I’ll keep this short. Out of necessity.

This morning while walking the dog I saw a guy running back-and-forth across the park, picture the Tom Cruise run, but like, over a pretty short distance. He looked smooth, like he was gliding. Floating? Anyway, he went in all sorts of directions, but I can’t be sure that wasn’t to avoid the path Freddie had decided to take me. But he always came back to the same starting point on the corner. When Fred and I reached it, I felt compelled to say something.

You’ve got great form!

I don’t actually know if he had great form technically, I don’t know anything about running, but he looked pretty neat to me.

He looked at me, incredulous.

Really? Running is very, very new to me.

I mean, he said it in a way that this could have been his first time running. Ever. And I witnessed it.

Well you look great. Like you’re floating.

Wow. Thanks! Have a great day!!

Well that landed well. I made a mental note to remember this exchange and promptly forgot it when Fred demanded his breakfast on the couch for the second day in a row. He might be punishing me, it’s hard to tell. I’m fine with it.

This evening I was walking to the Caribou (another neighborhood establishment of which I had big dreams of becoming a regular like 10 years ago, but I’m wildly inconsistent and they’d been around too long and already had so many actually regular Regulars, I had to settle for an Every Once in Awhile patron, thus the eager pounce on reaching Turn Key Regular, a status which I’m proud to announce, I’m 93% certain I’ve achieved), and passed a person with beautiful hair. I could see them coming from a block away. Sort of red hair, thick and face-framing but also long, just a force from every direction in this super humble way.

I almost didn’t say it. Tumbled out like a shout, just in time.

YOU HAVE BEAUTIFUL HAIR.

They put their hand to their chest, as if in slight disbelief, but breathed oh my gosh, thank you! in a way that expressed genuine gratitude.

That’s when I remembered the runner from this morning. I unintentionally sandwiched my day with complimenting strangers and probably ended up feeling the best of the three of us about it, and that’s my Last Day of May takeaway.

I did it! Under pressure! Crisis averted. I still got it.