Sunday, January 8, 2012
•ghost time•
Frustration will fall away. There will only be the palm of his hand. The white of his beard. The softness of a belly that can tolerate cheese and peanut butter heaped on an English muffin and washed down the gullet with milk, aahhh. Won’t I miss him? Won’t my heart ache like a frost heave on new pavement? In my twenties, I worried about his health. I threatened that peanut butter--I would hide it! How ridiculous—and how telling of how it will be. How the moment it all snaps away, when I’ll crave only the company of that person I once knew, and in the black of winter, how it will feel I only have myself to blame.
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"Won't my heart ache like a frost heave on new pavement?" -- beautiful line and small stone --
ReplyDeleteThe portrait is touching. The sense of loss, or impending loss, throws me into my own current grief, for I have no similar memories to pull me through.
ReplyDeleteI used to put eanut butter on everything. In France it's an expensive luxury.
Oh, honey. This is gorgeous. xoxo
ReplyDeleteThe inevitability of grief. It's laying in wait for all of us. This post is part of a larger piece I can't rightly publish on the interwebs. Curse it all. xox
ReplyDeleteSo deep and sorrowful - knowing before loss how terrible it will be.
ReplyDeleteYes, like you said to Amy -- good to pause in the depth of this place and tone. Would love to read the whole piece.
ReplyDelete"The inevitability of grief" is terrifying to me. I felt every part of what you said.
ReplyDelete