Just Like That

He asked: “What do you do in the Berkshires?” I wasn’t sure if he was referring to me as the “you” or if he meant me as the representative of everyone living here. This contemplation caused a rather dramatic pause in the conversation, during which time I focused my sight just slightly above his exceedingly round head. Momentarily I returned to his attention and said: “We bowl in the Berkshires. We all bowl. We stand on the side of hills and bowl. We throw any ball that fits into our hands and temperaments. We launch it, in the manner that one throws a bowling ball, out and away into the dawn or dusk, into whatever season is showing its face, into promise or fear or whatever is disguised in a sullen cloud or a flat blue sky. We bowl. That is what we do in the Berkshires.” Looking back at him, his small eyes began to shift, not unlike the automatic wipers on a better car. It seemed to me that he had nothing more to say, so I picked up the bocce ball at my feet and slipped away — just like that.