In the evening there was the sadness again which is hard to bear
I buried my face in Bill's hair and inhaled
and it seemed I could smell his fear and downheartedness
Yet it still smelled like him too
and so inherently calmed and comforted me
despite the other things in the bouquet
Kisses help
You don’t always pay attention to kisses as such
You’re thinking about the context
about whatever made you kiss in the first place
(it could be any of a thousand things)
but when you let the world narrow down to just the kiss itself
well it’s an extraordinarily pleasant sensation
The knowing and not knowing
the expected and unexpectedness
of kissing someone you’ve been kissing for years
is divine
But there are other things in the world
besides the sadness and its assuagement
Yesterday morning as I was walking
a big silvery gray classic-type car
pulled across my path into a garage
so pretty it made me smile
And in the evening there was
the tactile familiarity and consolation
of a stack of three books
held neatly in one hand
with my thumb tucked over the blue front cover of the top one
as I carried them from one room to another
The touching of legs while reading in bed
The smell of newsprint
(Or no not the smell exactly
but something about the way the papers look
or the crumpling sound they make
They’re dusty and soft
yet crisp
but the crispness is fleeting)
And I suppose
though I’m loath to do it
that if I am telling the good and bad things I saw and felt
then I have to include my sheer physical horror this morning
when I saw a worm crawl out of a tomato in the fruit bowl on the diningtable
Just the memory still sends the same horrible visceral chills
not up my spine as cliche would have it
but up and down my sternum and into the pit of my stomach
It was truly dreadful
And now having diligently recorded it
I will do my best not to remember it anymore
image source is here
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