Closings, and Openings

Offer acceptance, and hard not to feel overwhelmed at the telescoping of life’s infinite options down to its one irrevocable and true path.  In this version of the multiverse, anyway.  The slimmest of parcels, reliant on HRM green belt inactivity, yet a gorgeous home that should hopefully require no additional effort on your part except to sit back, fill it up, and enjoy.  

And write, properly, at long last.  Until it sinks into the lake, of course.  Or the city decides to intrude on your patch of forest paradise.  Ha.  Return to this and weep, if so, but I think not, even as one can never tell the future.

The momentum seems inexorably forward, the lining up of car and work and pregnancy and permanent residency issues.  The second guessing, the speculation, the annoyance of mortgages and insurance and utility connections and furniture acquisition.  All part of growing up, growing into this new life, this new book.

For the Maplewood address shall become a bunker, a spot to at last put the accumulated spoils of the first 42 years of life on full display.  Daydreaming over potential titles for such a screed a nice way to pass the time this lazy Sunday that should have been devoted to the development of Information Requests.  But those too shall be done.  In time, as always.

How to explain and capture everything.  How you came to be, and what I would like to pass on, to be known, treasured, remembered.  The laughter, above all.  The love, above even that.  Some chapters...  Sonnets and Psalms, etc. etc.  Exploit that and all the other miscellany.  I feel it coming.  So get the place on St. Patrick's, get the condo ready, get on the train, get the win in the stands versus Jamaica, bring on the classes on the birthing day, and make this a lasting summer to remember.  Go tell it on the water.