This Week

I want to write you another perfect poem. As perfect as every poem is right after you write it: all my desire and language in a box on a page, playing with the white space.

But here I am with a list of to do’s, a need to prep for class and pick up a sandwich after I make my licorice tea.

This week I didn’t write here every day. I’ve been very busy with the in-between, finishing up tasks for my freelance clients before I start my new job in a few weeks. I’ve also been taking time to see people I rarely get to see. Yesterday I spent time with my poet friend Esther, and reminded myself that making time for people I adore is more important than I think it is. I mean, I consciously make time for my family, but there are more people I want to spend time with and I want to keep going to readings and reading on stages, like I did this week. [Aside: it was something to read my work and see how my words interacted with the audience. Then to sit and listen to two writers read their gorgeous work.]

I’ve also been enjoying a different configuration in my home, as Annie is away on a 7th grade field trip. (Yes, my kids have many names and this moniker might confuse you. Sorry.) I keep thinking about how last year she didn’t go on a choir trip, but this year she was excited for this trip. Annie is never gone for more than a night. Even KK says it’s strange. But it’s good, too. Good to receive pictures of her on my phone: in front of Spokane Falls with one of her teachers, for example. There is a lightness to her, a belonging to the world.

A belonging to the world: it’s a crazy world out there, and we belong to it.

See you next week.

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