and baby, I am a basket case. A case of baskets. Woven ones. Woven thoughts and words, in a flurry, a hazy whooooshing cloud like in Dante’s 2nd? 5th? canto where the adulterous lovers are rushed around, never able to fully embrace or stay still, since their lust was as overwhelming and uncertain.
Oh, my long-term boyfriend is returning to town for a visit. It’s been over two months since I last saw him…oh, and part of me is anxious in a positive way, while the other half is dreading configuring how both worlds are going to mesh…are they going to collide? Violently? Peacefully?
And speaking of peaceful, did my great-uncle have a peaceful death as the priest tried to reassure us, the tearful mourners, grieving among sloppy jokes about provolone, exercising…and did he really go on and on about being in Iraq or Afghanistan when there lay our poor dead man in his coffin, a string of rosary beads wrapped in his forever still hands? Having a heart attack in a car being driven by one’s understandably hysterical wife does not sound peaceful to me. At all. Life is quick, quick, quick, and even when you’re older, it is still a shame for one’s parents to outlive their son….God, is life ever quick.
And I worry over my father’s health now. Bought Bayer and said it with a slight tremble, “Dad, if you ever get chest pain – there’s the Bayer” because the man does not take care of himself. And what if they do end up putting him on diabetic medication and he continues to eat so poorly? A forced half hour walk around will not be that beneficial in the overall picture of his well-being…and he has to be there one day. all days. To walk me down the aisle. To walk my children to the school bus. Something has to change. For the better.
All of these disjointed sentences.
Finally, how did I get stuck doing my sister’s homework on Communism? The girl gets to sleep and I’m slaving over her history books. Nonsense.
