“The road from appearance to reality is often very hard and long, and many people make only very poor travelers. We must forgive them when they stagger against us as if against a brick wall.” —Franz Kafka

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Local news at 10:09 AM


Today is the 31st anniversary of my mother's death. We share a tradition on this day, my sister, brother, and I; an email exchange and candles plus whatever goes on in our private thoughts. I included my brother's message below. Seems all three of us dream and redream our childhood home. It's like a haunting but that can be a good thing, I suppose. Or okay anyway.



Today in Seattle the weather was just like it was 31 years ago, that January day - cold with a dirty fog that closing in the city. We put mom in a wheelchair and pushed her around the hospital floor. Which one? The 7th? We stopped at the NW window looking out over 15th st. A very depressing, gray mist pushed up against the window. I distinctly remember feeling embarrassed showing her such things. I told her I loved her and that I would miss her dearly. She just looked out, saying nothing. Moving on, we went back to the room and I lifted her into bed. So light and frail.

The other night I had a dream of biking home to Beaux Arts. I was going up 106th street, the Akin's house to the left, the Wah's to the right, the road was cobble stone with emerald green moss growing and healthy between the stones. I was tired, it was a long ride from my office in Seattle, or wherever I had come from. In dreams you never really know, only the moment, the cobblestone path, and the thought that it was so so long a ride. Soon I would be home. But then I realized the family was not there and I would have to make it a home on my own. It was too far to ride.

One hell of a dream, eh?
Love to both of you.

I'll light a candle tonight.


I posted a new poem on my poetry blog today. I started it awhile ago, I don't know when. I found it in one of my old notebooks. Anyway, I finished it this morning.


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