Counting

It is always a new day when my brain deletes recent but not consistently used information. Like where in my computer I have put what. I am better by rote. Bunny counts, as I count, what we have or are doing, stitches, logs stacked or loaded in the basement wood bin, out of state license plates on the Thruway.  She once told me, upon arrival for a party, that she counted the steps to my house, deep in the woods, 1500. The walk in the woods was so boring, counting was the only way to compliment the effort. Amazed I was, that someone would not like a walk in the woods, but then very few people visited, it was far from where one could park. Lately I have been yo-yoing in and out of the city via the Thruway, counting out-of- state license plates, thinking of spying them with Bunny riding shot-gun in my mind's eye game, counting and re-counting in a rhythm to remember the list to share with her, laughing, at some future time, as counting in the moment is the only way to compliment the 2 & 1/2 hours on that road. Touring the USA and Canada by foreign plates, the core, NY, NJ, PA,CONN, and Quebec, New England would be MA, RI, NH, Maine and VT, but not my car, there has to be another VT car to count, S Carolina, VA, FL, TENN, and then IL &  Wisconsin! orange with black letters! 16 cars dedicated to Bunny! One of my best days. Lately, dirt and road salt covers the plates and I cannot tell the really exotic ones traveling 75+ mph. Game over, what shall I count? Back to dividing mile markers by travel time? Always scanning for police and changes in the landscape, the goal up to Vermont or down to the city, when will I see you again?

Leslie Fuller