With daughter and son-in-law from Brooklyn, we're headed to Chatham for tag sales, exploring small towns along the way and their respective art shows - maybe even dine in the Welsh pub! There is finally a break in the rain so... we've got to get our groove on!
Now, truth be told, I don't really like tag sales all that much - I get bored too easily, I guess - but I love my daughter - and her husband and my dear Dianne - so I'm gonna get my ass in gear and be a part of the solution instead of the problem... or the slug... or whatever. Jane Hirschield put it like this in a poem I am loving:
What is usual is not what is always.
As sometimes, in old age, hearing comes back.
Footsteps resume their clipped edges,
birds quiet for decadesmigrate back to the ear.
Where were they? By what route did they return?
A woman mute for years
foprms one perfect sentence before she dies.
The bitter young man tires;
the aged one sitting now in his body is tender, his face carries no regret for his choices.
What is usual is not what is always, the day says again.
It is all it can offer.
Not ungraspable hope, not the consolation of stories.
Only the reminder that there is exception.
I love that: so I'm goin' up the country, momma do you want to come?" (Here's another take on that old song - not as hot - but just as much fun.)
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