I love the dark hours of my being.
My mind deepens into them.
There I can find, as in old letters,
the days of my life, already lived,
and held like a legend, and understood.
Then the knowing comes: I can open
to another life that’s wide and timeless.
So I am sometimes like a tree
rustling over a gravesite
and making real the dream
of the one its living roots
a dream once lost
among sorrows and songs.
This is always tough for me, the last time sitting under the porch before I pull out to head west. In previous years it was Labor Day weekend, now it’s after my guys’ weekend in October. It’s still warm, but it won’t be when I return. No one will be back until Thanksgiving when it’s generally freezing on the beach and underneath the house. That weekend revolves around cooking, eating & shopping. It’s an outlier.
I would live here or in Wilmington at the drop of a hat if we could make it work financially. But I am limited in how I can provide.
I may never understand why my parents won’t move here permanently. It’s none of my business. For now, it’s the place I most want to be with Jo & Finley when I have downtime. It’s even better when my sister’s family is around.
So, goodbye warm weather. I’ll see you Memorial Day weekend.