Down Wind

I'm at an age today that I remember my mother being

When her knuckles and elbows would keep their squeezed shape

Sitting in a meeting wondering what I'm going to do next

After childhood and adulthood and fatherhood there is tidying up then grand-fatherhood and rest

All the world rushing by like a boat on a canal creeping out of sight when you look away for a moment

On that boat, everything you own, everything you love, everything you ever saw

Then it dawns on you that you have plans for the next five weekends

There are birthday parties and barbecues and family get-togethers, park days and beach days

Then you remember you need to shave, clip your nails, treat a wound

Some days you get a call that things have taken a turn for the worse with your mother or your lover or your boat, that one floating down the canal

Before long you discuss the journey as a race, as a concert, as a lesson, as a journey

Today I was in a meeting talking about artificial snow and how to brandish it

Tomorrow I might go for a swim or eat some cake or play with a dog
--
8.27.13

Evening Dispatch