May 31, 2025
The half & half I bought yesterday at the Fresh Market was soured. The first gulp of coffee was a bitter awakening that has not yet faded in memory.
A father downy woodpecker brings his chick to feed from the winter’s seed column. He pecks out a chunk, puts it in the baby’s moth. The baby is at least his size.
L texts that E died this afternoon. Spent time looking at an old photograph of the “S” grandkids. E is sitting on the ground smiling an enormous smile. Every one of the faces in the picture (except grandma and grandpa) stood at the open door of their life. None of us came through unscathed. It is possible– though my bitching and moaning about every little cross disguises the fact–that I knew the least tribulation. I hope every one of us would say that. It is a strange thing. One world fades. In twenty years, no one will know who those faces are.
So exhausted after rehearsal that I went to bed. Woke in pale yellow of late rainy afternoon.
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