It’ll Pass

Catching up with Reeder last night at a beer garden, last time seeing him since Carter was in town, pre-pandemic.  Reflecting on the tragedy, enjoying the reminiscing even amidst the sadness, the incomprehensibility of it.  The injustice.  The fat waitress leg tattoo of the title does not cover all things terminal, alas.  The influencer chat with the 42 and 27 year olds entertaining in putting the new life in context as compared to the old.  How easy it seems, in retrospect, and yet.

Now sitting here on the Sabbath Day with a sleeping big man, instead of trekking through the sands of Sable.  Contemplating Toronto and Montreal as a mid-July escape.  And how to steady yourself for the organizing and writing and planning of what is to come.

The disaster of the domestic divisions only partially solved.  Marriage as a constant work in progress.  Why?  Fun talking about it last night.  The moment of Ben falling asleep at the Spring Garden library, waking to ponder the question of moving here. What if he had?

So many paths to choose in the multiverse.  Courage to live the right one.