Officially it is autumn, although summer was over for me more than a month ago, the first time I left for work under a black morning sky, twinkling with stars. It was as beautiful as it sounds.
I think I’ve rounded a corner, as well, through no more effort on my part than leaves giving up their hold on dormant branches. Even as crisp sounds and the unmasked silhouettes of trees replace insects’ hum and washes of green wherever you look, the edges of my inner world have become softer, the shapes less distinct. I used to remember the purpose I had here, could poke away the earth around me and reveal. That fuel feels spent now.
When Pammy and I were little, we spent a lot of time, especially with Daddy, looking at things behind glass – jewelry and watches, stuffed birds and bison, even little rooms full of perfect scale furniture no child had ever played with. I think I just want to go back there again, with him. I want to ask him why we are looking, ask him what we are looking for, and know whether he sees my heart reflected back in every lingering moment.