I haven’t got much time to write this because I don’t have much
time, like everyone, who always says, “Hey, I’m everyone and I have
so little time.” I keep meaning to make more time in my basement.
I have thought of baking my time, making it super fresh and
breadish, so as to warm the house with the smell of a baked good, but
I’m having trouble finding a good place to start. Last night, before bed,
I could see the faces of my children and their faces did not look right,
like maybe they weren’t my children at all, just some kids who
wandered in and got stuck. We all get stuck sometime. But really
the important thing about words is that they exist. Remember how
in high school certain words made everyone laugh? Remember how
sexy sex was then? Remember how hard it was to remember to do
what you knew you were supposed to do? Remember Algebra? Remember
me, in my raincoat, coming to you with a sad glass of soda and a vague
sense that the world was coming to an end? I can’t remember anything
anymore, only the outdoor world, before the discovery of fire, and
how at night we’d just huddle up together and wait for it to pass.
Photo Source: theKitchn
