POET | PLAYWRIGHT | TEACHING ARTIST
I was in bed reading before eight. Out by eight thirty. The room was cold, but I wore wool – shoulders to toes. I have no idea if I dreamt, but I woke clear this morning and took a longer walk than usual. Soft rain is perfect running weather really, but I am easing back…
I’m on my third cup of coffee, which is probably not a great idea. I dreamt last night about B’s dying for the first time. Then I had an awkward dream about eating in a restaurant – and being in the way. On her podcast B. talked about creating meaning in things, rather than searching…
The slow alarm’s light begins to fade up at 4 am. I like waking this way. The phone rings, but it isn’t B. or the kids, so I don’t take it. I may be awake, but my waking is intentional, and this time sacred. I’m not sure sacred is the right word, but it is…
It’s like I’m trying to prove something to myself. Every “fresh start” stumbles on a flu bug, or something similar. I am not going to call it self-sabotage. I’m not going to label it at all. Because this is life, and I am beginning to think that the proof of devotion isn’t necessarily the steady…
Came home yesterday to find that Leonard had eaten 11 eggs from a carton I left on the counter. He’s never done anything like that before. I think that the sulfur-like emissions coming from the corner of the room last night affected my dreams. I was visiting B., and she and I went to the…