MIMICKING A DAY’S MEMORY: So, today we delighted in the last couple of breakfast hours with the Grafton, Massachusetts clan, drove back to our cabin wishing we could have stayed longer. I took a ride into Binghamton (NY) to pick up the last section of our kitchen sink’s base cabinets and completed piecing it together, mended the leaks, sealed the countertop, we ate, weary from all that has passed thus far, I washed the dishes in the now installed sink, big single bowl, unfinished oak base front with particle board sides, Lowe’s specials, and we were glad this new convenience finally came into place in our modest cabin and of this day of our days here and the sweet memories of this latest visit.
I write tired yet astonished at the experience we shared these almost two weeks - no time to link up with friends this visit, the work and family kept us traveling and laboring and joining with the extended clans. I miss that important connection.
On our return from Grafton, I read aloud to Eileen from Annie Dillard’s “Teaching a Stone to Talk,” the opening chapter, one I consider a friend to visit with now and then also, “Total Eclipse,” of the sun that is, in Washington state’s Yakima valley, Dillard’s cadences, musings, bold phrasings, stark observations, her lexicons and grammars now part of my physical sensibility. Like typing how news writers write to learn the style, as I did when I first tried to convince a newspaper to hire me and succeeded - learning the phrasings with my fingers.
A mimic seeking a little bit of originality. Thoughts that end without a formal ending. Selah.
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