...long post in Darwin's about memory, cities, and walking five miles through a Boston night filled with hordes of new freshmen going out for the first time ever (I went from BU to Tufts via MIT and Harvard), and then Darwin's faulty wireless ate it. Maybe just as well, as I know it was cryptic and sentimental. It lacked the quality LG described in my poems (not entirely as a compliment) as "an 'I was raised by wolves' clarity." Which I want as the jacket blurb of my so-called book.
Now I'm in Connecticut with the grandparents at their retirement home slash circle of hell. Every few minutes I find I've spaced out of the conversation to repeat like a mantra "please let me never get old." I have never been here before without a nuclear family ally (mom or sisterkins) and it's hard to try to keep everyone's spirits up. I keep making lasting, significant eye contact with the nurses and aides--ports in a storm of slowness, deafness, and irritability. I really, really, love my grandparents, but they're not easy to be with these days. Officially I am looking at train schedules right now in the (of course empty) computer room, but really I am just trying to feel the motor of life going forward again.
1 comment:
Take care of yourself with the tough visits. Did I ever tell you how my last visit with my grandparents involved a lecture on why the Japanese internment was such a good thing? Call when you can.
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