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| Dolphins are too hard too hard to photograph. So here's a pair of terns. It looked like an argument. |
It rarely happens now, and when it does, I ask why instead of thinking, well shit, this is the way it is. This is the way I am. It might be that I have some pre-flying anxiety since my mom and I will be going to the east coast soon for her annual trip, and after I leave her at my brother's place I will be flying around here and there. I can handle that. It might be because last night I dove into the inner depths of Dan's iPad and found beginnings of songs he'd started but never finished. So I emailed them to myself. Like this:
How I long for your crazy sadness,
Enlightening gladness
Inexplicable madness
Enlightening gladness
Inexplicable madness
And then this morning when I woke before six and turned on my computer, wow--for a split second, Dan was alive because there was email from him in my inbox!--and I suppose that started my day in an unbalanced fashion. I could not concentrate on writing at all today, but did manage to read, so that's something.
I drank two glasses of wine with dinner while my mom and I talked about the birds that will be showing up this winter. The buffleheads. The grebes. It was your basic "Tell me about the rabbits, George" conversation.We're waiting for those winter birds. And we're hoping for pelicans. The first winter they were diving into the marina non-stop, the next winter not so much. Who knows how it will be this winter. Who knows.
5 comments:
As I was reading how you emailed Dan's songs to yourself, my local radio station was playing something that must date from the early forties with the refrain "Someone's rocking my dreamboat"...
I love these glimpses of your life, your interior. You don't think of it as "writing," but it most certainly is --
Perhaps the planets were aligned into the anxiety mode. Maybe they still are. I am feeling it. You have your sea dancers, I have my chickens. We work through it.
I agree with Elizabeth. You ARE writing.
I get pre-fight anxiety too. I love the words of that unfinished song. I keep thinking, and may already have said, you didn't have Dan for nearly long enough, but how blessed you are to have had him at all. He seems like the sort of soul who profoundly changes the lives of all who encountered him. Was he part of your habitual anxiety dissipating. I do believe some people are light beings. They lift the rest of us up. He sounds like he was that.
Lovely lyrics. Lonely you. Dan was tuned in, and he continues to tune in. So lucky you, too.
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