Having had the bus company cancel my ride an hour before an appointment last week, I was taking no chances. Neighbor Cindy gave me permission to park in their driveway, the closest parking space near the entrance to my development. The bus company agreed to pick me up there. The woman I talked to said she would leave instructions for the driver.

I got up an hour earlier than usual to get ready, eat a little granola, and get the ice off the windshield of the car. It was 12 F (-11.111C). I couldn’t have been in Cindy’s drive more than two minutes when I saw the bus drive right by. It paused near the first icy patch, then continued toward my house. I was instantly out of the car and reaching for my phone. No one picked up the call at the bus company, so I left a message, hoping someone would get it. I began to pace back and forth on the road, hoping I could get the bus to stop for me on the way out. It was cold! The dispatcher did call and immediately let the bus driver know to come back for me. I stood in the middle of the road waving. I must have looked cold, because the driver turned up the heat.

I’m often the only rider in the bus, but today we picked up three other elderly people. The man lived in a trailer park near me. I asked if he had much damage from the hurricane. He said no, but the flood ripped off the front steps. Everyone had been evacuated. He was lucky to have friends living nearby who took him and his wife in. They stayed three weeks.

We picked up two women, obviously people who knew the man and each other. They were laughing and joking. If this had been a musical, we would all have burst into song as we rode along. They were discharged at Haywood County Respite. A woman at the door greeted them warmly by name, proving to me that they were regulars.

I usually have to wait a long time for the eye injection, but not today. I felt herded along to the small waiting room. Skipping the vision and pressure test, I was given the numbing drops. My eyes had to be closed after that, so I fumbled for my brand new glasses case and stowed my phone in a pocket. This was the first day I was wearing glasses after three years without. Somewhere along the way, I lost a knit purple glove. After the injection I stumbled along the hallway to the waiting room and sat down for a few minutes. I had hoped to use a very small space with windows overlooking the front door, but a man with two children had claimed the space. The bus could be a while, because there were no drivers free at that moment. I thought I was aware of all vehicular movement on the approach when I heard someone at the door asking if Anne Mehrling was there. Aaauuuggghhhh! I hated that the bus driver had to come inside for me. She was very nice about it.

On the highway I kept reminding myself to tell her where to let me off. It would have been embarrassing to get to my door and say, “Oops! Can you take me back to my car?”

I think I’ve earned a nap today.

After we had an icy snowfall, two neighbors checked on me to make sure I wasn’t planning to walk. I didn’t the first day because the road was white. There was a good chance there was ice under the snow. I was surprised the ice slid off my car when the sun shone on it. The next day I could see the road in front of my house was clear, and I dressed for the single-digit temperature. What a surprise to find the road white from Holly’s house to Joyce’s driveway! Finding it slippery, I turned back. It was a shame to waste all that layering of clothing, so I walked an oval path on the dry road to the end of the street and back. That is basically just in front of Logan’s house. After ten loops, I had walked half an hour and was willing to go inside.

After going through my morning routine, I decided to write this. When I got up to make tea, I told myself to walk an oval path inside the house, circling around an inside wall. That will be my rule for the rest of the day – to circle at least twice before sitting again. Although I haven’t changed the thermostat, the house is uncomfortably cool when I sit still. I’m wearing thermal underwear, street clothes, a warm throw that Linda made for me, and a thin blanket on my shoulders. Lurking just under the surface is the idea that I COULD climb in bed and snuggle under the winter duvet if my teeth begin to chatter. A cup of hot chocolate might come first.