Thursday, May 12, 2022

Something Living in Me

We made a model of Big Mamie, later went to look at the actual ship in permanent dock in Fall River, and I felt claustrophobic and confused. So you got good at writing love letters, so what?
Light fills the upstairs hall, the floorboards warm and golden. We are the end of us.
Sitting quietly in the dark seeing how all the parts of my life so apparently disparate are aspects of a seamless whole. Evidence of toothpick use among Neanderthals, reassuring in a way.
Back when I drank, drinking while sailing. What was the name of that farm in Springfield Vermont that made such amazing cider jelly.
Heart, soul, spirit, et cetera. Classrooms to which one does not need to travel. 
Dad cared deeply about local native American culture, I don’t know why, he could go on for hours about King Philip’s War. Pine cones keep fallin’ on my head.
A last cup of coffee before driving home, the slow grind through downtown Pittsfield, the long slope of route nine. What is near vs. what is familiar.
Unidentified spiders in the basement. Kale and blueberry smoothies.
The specific challenge of working in a communal space. Suddenly I face my fear of God, I thought I finished this back in Worthington, lessons 79 and 80 of A Course in Miracles, but here we are.
We agree, no more outdoor fires, it spooks the horses. Trying the old Vox amplifier, grinning stupidly playing the opening chords to Highway to Hell, something living in me, something not unhappy.

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