During my New York years, I was invited to be a writer in residence in Vermont at the summer home of a doctor and his wife. I was living in New York and had become good friends with their daughter, who had recently returned to New York after spending two years as a Peace Corps volunteer in Turkey.
I was hardly a well-known writer, but somehow Jeanette’s parents had taken a liking to my poetry and eccentric affection for cows, so the invitation was proffered and accepted and soon I found myself waking up in a second-floor New England-style bedroom that overlooked a maple tree farm.
During my stay, I learned how to extract the sap from the trees and watched it get turned into maple syrup.
On the warm summer days, I took long walks and made friends with some of the cows at neighboring farms. And, of course, I wrote about my experiences, which my hosts enjoyed sharing with their friends. I fancied the romance of being a writer in residence and daydreamed about other exciting resident possibilities in my future.
This week, it finally happened.
I have once again become a writer in residence, this time in a rehabilitation facility in Pasadena. A moment of leaning too far back put me with a thud to the floor, resulting in a fractured hip.
“All the king’s horses, and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again” was running through my mind as I was wheeled into surgery. However, a skilled orthopedic surgeon proved me wrong.
This sequence of events led me to where I am today, a self-appointed writer in residence at Villa Gardens Rehabilitation Care Unit in Pasadena.
I am very excited to take you along on this journey with stories from my residency. There will likely not be any cows or maple syrup involved, but I think I can safely promise a few adventures.
Email patriciabunin@sbcglobal.net. Follow her on Patriciabunin.com
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