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  • Sunday morning, wake up at six. Never mind that we went to bed around 2. Never mind that this is the longest night's sleep we have had in over 2 weeks. We are awake, and we are talking, and we are even coherent.

    Something smells good, and it is not laundry smells and it is not cooking smells and it is not people or skin smells. Something smells good and I know that I have to pull on a pair of shorts (not my own) and go outside half sleepy still. Raining.

    Yes, it is raining. Yes it is that half cold sort of rain that comes in the summer, Yes it is about 75 degrees out there and steady rain. Not insistent, not intermittent, not half-hearted, just steady wet. Soggy cigarettes taste good on the stoop.

  • New baby in the family. D. has it all wrong when she says babies are ugly. Of course she is correct but wrong because she does not believe they can be loved in spite of it. How Can You she says. It is Crying and Wet she says.

    I am waiting to see her with her own squirmy face red scrunched baby. There is something like Hello Little Lady and Oh Baby you are So Cool you will Stop Crying and Sleep Sweetly now and more of so much gentleness that spills naturally. These creatures are ugly miracles, beautiful.

  • I talk to myself in mirrors, as though practicing for a play. Preparing myself for any expected reaction by rehearsing what and how I will talk. Or at least, how my natural response will look. Preparedness is underrated. Today one of my co-workers walked into the ladies room and caught me, winking at the mirror. HAHA.

  • Fruit trees, wild, lining rural backroads. Stop the car and they all leap out like monkeys or the Von Trapp children. Shinny up raw trunks in hilarious schoolboy shorts and fill bags full of bursting fruit, sweet and oozing and fly tasty. Good fruit soups come of these red plums and yellow plums and purple plums. On good days, their dad will stop in a spot that has peaches as well. For the taking, legal and necessary.

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