Saturday, February 25, 2012
The nails are growing long again as the stunted one from he accident with the wood burning stove grows slowly with ugly ripples and dents. I tell time best these days by those dents, rather like the circles in a tree or more accurately by how a rope tied tightly to a trunk become encircled by it over time. I am in it's third month if I remember correctly in these odd times. So much has changed. A grand child born. A son struggling with creativity the cruelest mistress of all. Another son trying to make up for time, so much lost and in love, wanting to be good enough. And I think in my quiet moment how lucky they are to be alive. But I don't want to remind them of that pain, create an obligation of happiness.