So Much Depends on So Little

When a friend of hers heard that my daughter JJ was anxiously waiting to hear if she got a teaching job in Juneau, he said, "One phone call will change your life." She did get that call yesterday and is now packing for the move to the capital, and her sister Eliza who lives there is cleaning out her spare room so JJ can have it. It is nice that they will be together, and that they share the same profession. But what will we do without JJ? We'll be fine, and we are so happy for her, especially since she is over the moon excited. One phone call can really make a difference. One minute can too. Last night we were helping a friend subsistence fish in Klukwan, and while we were out on the river a bunch of boys and young men from Haines and Klukwan were playing basketball in the village gym. On the way a home a truck with three of them in it rolled off the road when its driver swerved to avoid a moose. The kids were all fine and walked away from it. They were wearing seat belts, and were very lucky. Thank God the only big change in that one moment is a truck that went from running to scrap. I have been thinking about this all morning, and about that little poem, the one about so much depending on a red wheelbarrow beside the white chickens in the rain. It is a foggy morning here, and my six hens are pecking about the wet grass of the coop. I have read that William Carlos Williams was a doctor, and that he composed that poem after sitting up all night with an ill little girl who died at about dawn. He looked out of her bedroom window and saw that scene in the yard below. I think I'm starting to understand what it means. Walking the dogs on the beach I thought about JJ's happy phone call, and the parent's of those boys heart stopping relief, and I realized so much depends on so little most of the time.

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