April 20, 2014

Easter Sunday

The morning of Holy Saturday I spent finally, joyfully in my studio, where much that was amiss came right. The rest of the day, regardless of reason and outcome, was too much singing. Some sort of hysteria takes over: “Your voices sound very tired. I know you’ve been singing a long time. OK, let’s do it again–“The Holy Saturday service was first dark, and then joyful. I no sooner got to church Easter morning when the vague ache I had noticed putting on my shoes became a full-blown attack of gout. My pills were miles away. But, made it through two services, and then a happy Easter brunch at the Blackbird, where our waiters were supernaturally cute. Home for nap, aggressive digestion, and, finally, a pill. With all that I feel more Eastery than I have for many a year. Happy, though the pain in my toe is a little nauseating. The birds that sing now welcome evening. Without the pain I might be too happy. I would be without context for it. I might walk through a door that is not yet open.