There was a meeting on my calendar today I had been carrying around for nearly a week.
A surveyor from the valley was coming to High Ground this afternoon. We had disagreed over a matter that seemed small on paper and somehow much larger in my thoughts.
It is remarkable what the mind can build when given enough evenings.
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By yesterday I had already rehearsed the conversation half a dozen ways. None of them ended particularly well.
By this morning I was certain we would leave understanding one another less than when we began.
At five minutes before four I straightened my coat and walked downstairs.
We spoke first about the weather.
Then the road.
Then the work.
When we finally reached the thing I had been carrying all week, something unexpected happened.
He listened.
So did I.
There were places we still disagreed, but they turned out to be smaller than either of us had imagined. Before long we found ourselves sketching a better way forward than either of us had brought into the room.
When he left, we shook hands.
The meeting I had feared for days lasted less than half an hour.
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Tonight I am sitting on the west terrace.
The creek is making its familiar way through the valley, entirely unconcerned with the stories I had been telling myself.
The coat I straightened before four still hangs by the door.
I have not moved to put it away.
✧
This letter is now part of the Conservatory — those who find one often need another.