One of our graduating seniors gives her capstone recital today. Focused, nervous, she manages to play well, a couple of pieces transcendently beautifully. It’s a right of passage and she has done the work to sail through hers smoothly. In a few weeks she will be gone, making her way into the flow of the world. I hope her music will stay with her as she moves beyond the sheltered harbor of learning and into the ocean of doing.
Up to NH to visit Mom. She is in good spirits, though drifting ever farther away each time I see her. It’s hard to juggle anxiety and love, to remain upbeat as I watch myself disappearing from her memories. So I tell her stories of us, our history, stories that will never reimprint themselves in her failing brain, but one that will tie us together again, here in this space, for these few moments.
as the circle completes itself
loose dreams tied up with hopeful string
unravel and the smell of spring
is silently knocked off the shelf
what one never believed one’s self
our casually placed desires
mistakes to feed countless fires
set while we weren’t even paying
attention blindly displaying
our nonchalance toward quagmires