Here's the self-inflicted curse of writing: Everywhere writers look or land, there is better writing.
I'll prove it.
This past week in Annapolis, I ran away from work in search of 1. a public waterfront; 2. a grilled cheese sandwich; 3. the chance of running into a dog or two; 4. the chance to find a quiet seat or bench to contemplate the wonders of water, grilled cheese sandwiches and dogs. I ran away to an Annapolis waterfront community called Eastport.
Now, I try to avoid knowing exactly where I'm going, because nothing can be as uninspiring and soul-sucking than knowing where you will end up by car, foot or day dream. So, I happened to end up parking on First Street, walking along Jeremy's Way to a long green limb of a park, fenced on both sides, duel-dogged on one side (their barking eventually cooled). I sat on a big-backed bench overlooking the bay. It was inexcusably cold, and the water was too choppy for kayaks. There I sat, cold and choppy.
And here, new reader, is where you have to suspend disbelief because my hand, magically, felt under the rim of the bench and there, a trap door lead to a journal called "Jeremy's Way Garden Journal." I opened the water-logged, spring-green journal and eavesdropped.
"Life's demands, society's demands, have kept me from sitting in beautiful places and being filled up... I will be quiet and sit in beautiful places more often for this is what makes me "full"..."
"Ahh... the moment of peace and quiet -- my 19-month-old son is finally asleep in his stroller after a busy afternoon of exploring in Eastport -- our new home of almost a year."
"Ode to the slug directly underneath my feet (almost killed it)... Oh, why did you move so close to me? Can't you see I am trying to read?"
"Cloudy with a chance of meatballs."
"I think I just like seeing my own handwriting."
"The only difference between a flower and a weed is the judgment."
"Eastport rocks."
The bench and journal are signature furniture of the TKF Foundation, a nonprofit that works with groups to create urban green space. TKF has other benches throughout Annapolis with other journals for those happening upon "these sacred places." In Eastport, the bench keeps company with flower beds now heaped in mulch and a barrel of flowers as the lawn's centerpiece.
The tethered journal houses testimonials from children on their days off. People have come here after the death of a mother. People have come here on Father's Day. Other children have left drawings of sailboats, dogs, mermaids and a badminton game with accompanying text: "Why don't we play badminton anymore?"
Well, why not?
"This is my first time here but quickly it has become my favorite corner in the world."
"I want the world to know how happy I am."
All those days spoken for. And one more day, the last entry of the journal.
"Good morning, love. I can't wait for forever with you."