We got up early and talked about the very beautiful and important piece Maria wrote about herself a few days ago, she didn’t mention it to me until this morning, and I didn’t get to read it until I was in the waiting room of the doctor’s office this morning, and it teared me up.

It was so heartfelt and hard-won a statement, it reminded me of a Mary Oliver poem.

It’s called “I Am Maria Wulf.” Sometimes, we have to sit down and think about it to know who we are and what is important.

We were both so eager to talk about that we decided to go out for breakfast at Amy’s County Wagon, just down the road a mile or so, her wagon is on the edge of the local livestock auction, instead of programmed music you get to hears cows mooing.

Amy, the cook, and proprietress made us our egg sandwiches and then came over to sit with us – it was a beautiful but quiet morning. We talked about dogs, kids, the plight of the small farmer, and the choices we make in life.

It was sweet to be sitting outside, sipping my coffee, talking with Amy, a mother, small business owner, farmer. She and I both know that her world is slowly vanishing.

She is proud of her son Ryan, who has gone to auctioneer school to follow in his father’s footsteps and auction cows at the livestock market. I always wanted to be an auctioneer.

Maybe some of this world will remain.

Amy’s kids are getting older, she wants to move forward with her life an be engaged, so she got this big food wagon and has set up a one-woman diner by the road. Good stuff to eat, too. I was glad she came over to talk with us, I much enjoyed listening to Amy and her stories of farm life, and her ideas about raising children in the country.

Her face turns sad when she talks about the growing problems of the small farmer.

I kept thinking of how proud I was of Maria, how far she had come, how good it felt to be sitting outside on one or Amy’s new tables, taking time out from business and craziness to just savor talking to a neighbor, and perhaps one day, a friend.

It was a gorgeous morning, the coffee and sandwiches were great, the conversation rolled along until I realized I had a doctor’s appointment and we had to rush off.

I saw Janet Oliver, my nurse practitioner, and we talked about me, my work and my health. It turns out I’m pretty healthy – I even got a sticker. My diabetes numbers are excellent, my heart sounds strong, we both agreed I am busy and engaged and active.

I asked her about my occasional drowsiness in the late afternoon, and she said, well, Jon, you are getting older. Take a nap. Good advice.

In a sense, Maria and I were both dealing with different ideas about what it means to be healthy. For Maria, it’s being free to do her work and make her own choices. For me, it’s when a nurse comes up to me and says “you really look great, you have a great sense of vitality about you.”

I’m off to Bennington, Vt. to get some new inserts for my shoes. It’s about maintenance now, I’m keeping up with my body.

A sweet diagnosis, only a woman would think to offer it.