Seatowne settles into me and I am never more poetic. So I
search for a symbol in every whitecap flaring on the horizon.
This week need not be profound. We waited for pork
tenderloin to brown and I reheated the pink pieces in the oven. We repurposed
onions and carrots for a salad. We walked to the evening dock, then poured a
mixed drink at home. We sat out and ate dinner with the bolts and sheets of
lightning illuminating our plates and our faces. We tried to discern through
smell or sound whether that was rain that was falling. We sat out and laughed
about that moment of upstairs-downstairs chaos in the rain. We sat out and
laughed til way, way late.
The metaphors and meanings disappear. It is enough to
remember it straight out. This is what we did. This is what we do.
September 13, 2013
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