Day 571, January 24, 2022


I remember ice in drinks, before the ice maker stopped working. A car with no heat, and a car with no air conditioner. The one working outside faucet and the one outside faucet not working. All our days are days of compromise. We make do with longer hoses, car appropriate clothing, and room temperature juice. It is amazing that there is ever anything that works just right. I forget how marvelous that is. I take it for granted, such a simple expectation that there is nothing that will go wrong. The entree won’t be burnt, the socks won’t shrink, the mice will not chew through a truly important wire. 

I miss basking in the glow of summer, all the exposed skin. I still wear a tan from September when I wore the skimpy bathing trunks for my birthday and watched the sun rise over the Atlantic. 

Our existence is quiet. Like we are each little secrets from one another. You a whisper over there, and me a little whisper over here. I need to practice breathing. Letting everything exist in its innocence. A sharp knife cutting though a fleshy fruit.

A label inside my old Kay bass.


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