my first word. 

Batman gloves and a fairy door are amongst the many treasured possessions crammed into my little Honda Civic as i ‘point my toes in the direction.’  Traveling through the finger lakes of upstate New York en route to the posh horse shows in Wellington, Florida to post - Fidel, pre - Walmart Cuba, I am at once exhausted, elated and extremely curious.  

Road trips are great for thinking — but not so much for writing things down.  Untethered by the steady hum of the motor and wheels on pavement my brain swirls with bits and peaces [sic] of blogs I hope  —but doubt— I’ll recall later.   As I race down route 89 South towards my 89 year old mother whose health runs in a similar direction, my past dances with the present and mingles with the future.

A friend called me batgirl when he saw the gloves.  “Batman,” I corrected.  I bought them several years ago — the kind with the open fingertips -- so i could hold and throw a disc (Frisbee) properly without the loss of contact with the rim and because, well…  

“Batman” was my first word, I told my friends’ three young children at the beginning of our photo play date recently.   True story.  When I was very young — the age little people begin to formulate words — I would sit on the sofa between my two older sisters while they stared religiously at the small black and white teevee screen in our humble living room — same bat time, same bat channel.  One fine, nana-nana-nana-nana day, “BATMAN!” passed through my lips —  not mommy, not daddy.  It’s in my baby book.  My friends’ two boys whipped open their jackets revealing their shirts exclaiming, “I’m Superman!” “I’m Spiderman!”  Their sister remained unimpressed, won over later by a fairy door and donut holes.   :)  

My gaze and thoughts drift across the familiar waters of Cayuga - the finger lake with bookends of Montezuma’s Wildlife Refuge and Ithaca, subjects of countless images I’ve snapped on innumerable treks between Rochester and Owego over the past two and a half decades.  

and i wonder…  

what will be my last word?  will I know it when I say it?  does anyone?  Do people plan this?  et tu, Brute?!  Would my exit pronouncement be as atypical as, well, i am?  Holy Toledo, Batman!   I really hope my last word is ‘grateful’ or something along those lines — for each breath, for this precious human life and for all the beautiful beings sharing this ride on this amazing planet.  “Remember to look both ways, Robin!”  Holy Namasté. 

 (c) Judy Lombard ~ BitsandPeacesPhotography.com