There’s been a lot of living going on: quiet reflections about “what I want” (these things tend to change over the years), travels to big cities for work and friends and (when I’m luckiest) both at once, runs in the thick humidity of July, re-organizing the book collection – ever an ongoing process, filling my phone with photos of my dog sleeping upside-down (little legs sticking straight up in the air BE STILL MY HEART), enjoying time spent with families and loved ones, and some unabashedly lazy afternoons.
And there’s a post a’brewing. One that I feel I need to get up before I can post anything else. I’ve been writing it off and on for months, never feeling quite satisfied it’s quite right. The irony, of course, is part of the post expresses the uncomfortable feeling of trying to get something perfect, or as close to “right” as possible, and never quite getting there, thus abandoning it entirely. Art imitates life?
I love this paragraph and somehow it sums everything up:
“It was like the classic scene in the movies where one lover is on the train and one is on the platform and the train starts to pull away, and the lover on the platform begins to trot along and then jog and then sprint and then gives up altogether as the train speeds irrevocably off. Except in this case I was all the parts: I was the lover on the platform, I was the lover on the train. And I was also the train.”
― Lorrie Moore, A Gate at the Stairs
All of this to say I’m still here. And I miss you (really). xo