1. I fell asleep last night pretending I was laying in warm thick clouds and pulling them up around my chin. I dreamt about war and running.
lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
memory and desire, stirring
dull roots with spring rain.” —T.S. Eliot
It’s always sad to say goodbye to a good thing. I’m always saying goodbyes and they’re always echoing after me down the halls.
-A late night in Arlington with faraway friends
-Just enough snow to comfort troubled hearts
-Falling asleep to Garrison Keillor’s storytelling
-The appearance of flowers, butterflies, birdsongs, & baby leaves
-Kissing all my money goodbye to save poor, sweet Henry Puggins
-Laying down on the picnic blanket in the grass and feeling, for the first time all year, truly warm in the sunshine
It’s early in the morning. I’m sitting by the window with my toast and coffee, and snow has begun to fall. We’d given up on more snow this year—taken it personally, even. But gently, gently now it fills up all the cracks. Flowerbeds are the first to go, with those early crocuses & daffodils, then branches and window ledges and all the rest of it. I woke up feeling a little lighter: heart a little less heavy, hands a bit more able. They’re such strange things, lightness & sadness, coming and going seemingly of their own volition. And yet, I can’t help trying to hold onto lightness as though convincing snow not to melt. “Stay. Please, stay.”