Mid-October
Life and life and life too much again. I'm back from summer holidays off the coast of Maine; Kayo's traveling until after Thanksgiving, so the children and I will have to have that big turkey all to ourselves or else nothing; Elizabeth is in Brazil with Lota and Robert; and He is gone. I sit here, not knowing anything. Linda comes into the room now and then, showing me some new gymnastic piece she's conquered, and I only wish she wouldn't; I haven't the stomach to see her shining accomplishments now, it's too much to take in. Joy becomes more quiet every day, and I don't know if it's my fault. I am their mother, and what is left of me, what shall I give? If I could give my eyes I would, and the hollow of my skull, all filled with brine. Elizabeth, come back, come back, Elizabeth gone. We used to have such talks.
And now, and now, tourists drive rented cars through my town to see the falling leaves. They pause and snap. I can't imagine the wonder they must feel. Nor do I want to. There was a time when things were easy, when morning did not signal something crystallizing; I need only a fluid moment to see clearly. And where is it? And my girls, and what of them? November, quickly rising through us all.
And now, and now, tourists drive rented cars through my town to see the falling leaves. They pause and snap. I can't imagine the wonder they must feel. Nor do I want to. There was a time when things were easy, when morning did not signal something crystallizing; I need only a fluid moment to see clearly. And where is it? And my girls, and what of them? November, quickly rising through us all.