What Day is This?

The World I left Behind

Sunday, January 13, 2013 • Jackson Compound • 9:00 AM

Classical music from the Bose behind me; silver cold morning sun through a web of oak branches in front of me. Ice melting into tiny ponds and rivulets around pool and deck outside the window. Human noises behind me, causing me to think about the silence I left behind in Winthrop; and wonder that I complained about too much solitude. What a fickle creature am I.

Home for almost 24 hours, soaking it in, nearly all good. I came home to a “frat house” yesterday and set to work cleaning, straightening and transforming it back into a home. I have one week to do some significant clearing out and organizing, making ready for another semester of school and a launch into this new year. 

I’ve not written; not worked on my novel for several days, or added to the blog. I got a sweet note from Blas Nayar, Mexican artist, encouraging me in my writing. It was late (for me) when I read it last night, so I did not try to write back. My Spanish does not flow easily anymore. I miss him, and Mazatlán and hope I can go back this year. 

I’m enjoying my tea for the first time in two weeks. I’d switched to coffee while in Winthrop. It just seemed the more appropriate way to start the day. I remember being in my cabin at Lost River and feeling that tea was not quite the same. Something about the temperature at which water boils up there, I think. Is that possible?

I do not know if my writing will resume. Maybe I wrote because of the forced solitude, the exile to a place not my home? We’ll see. Like Dorothy of Kansas cum Oz, I am immersed in the milky pleasure of being home again. That is enough for today.