But until that day comes you keep your eyes focused on that painted black line on the bottom of your lane and you do what you must: You swim on.

~ From “The Swimmers,” by Julie Otsuka

First thing, pool. I swim my mile. Decide to walk later after being at my desk. I work on poems, revision, from notes taken in a recent workshop. Made some progress. House is quiet. Frank still away. In the end, my walk turns into a trip to Home Depot and the Mall in the late afternoon. I want to replace the glass topped round table for the garden that blew over and shattered last summer (that I wrote a poem about). Locally, two hardware stores don’t have one. I find what I’m looking for at Home Depot, very pleased. Garden weather soon. I’ve been there a bit, cleaning out the sand box for the Special One, and raking. Then to the Mall to return some clothes I bought for my daughter for her birthday. I splurge on jeans for myself. On the way I listen to the New York Times podcast, a review of the new novel by Julie Otsuka, The Swimmers, which I think I will read. Or, listen to, on Audible. I also recently appreciated the review on NPR by Maureen Corrigan whose reviews I always trust:

The Swimmers is a slim brilliant novel about the value and beauty of mundane routines that shape our days and identities; or, maybe it's a novel about the cracks that, inevitably, will one day appear to undermine our own bodies and minds. . .

Soon enough I will be swimming again in Farm Pond.