angels get a better view
Two more weeks. As I told Diane during our lunchtime phone conversation earlier, I can’t dwell on the actual number of days left for too long. It’s not that I’m not excited–far from it–but I begin to fixate on the magnitude of the concept, thinking about all the permutations and possibilities, then thinking about my thought process in thinking about the possibilities, then thinking what other people think when they’re thinking about the thought process that is derived from the possibilities… And so on. I have to nip it in the bud and move on to the next subject of thought.
It’s an all-day rain. Nimbostratus. Diane and Luke and I have the weekend mostly to ourselves, which is just as well as we have lots of odds and ends to tie up with regard to the big event. Bret’s computer is playing old Counting Crows here in the office. Adam Duritz’s plaintive voice meshes well with the timbre of the afternoon. My 27 years seem very long today.
I remember rainy days in England, visiting my best friend Timothy in his house near Leamington Spa, perched on a cluster of windswept, grassy hills rising out of the patchwork of countryside. I remember their clothesline in the backyard, running my fingers along the wires pensively as my hair caught the gusts. I remember the small-windowed church at the end of his road, which must have been older than almost anything on this continent, and the skewed, weathered gravestones with dates that reached back to the 1600s and before. I remember scooping up cow chips and riding the quad around his neighbor’s small farm, herding sheep through a small opening in a long fence and doubling over with laughter as they all tried to crowd through the gap simultaneously. I remember eating English sausages and potatoes at an outdoor dinner party on a summer evening, torches all around pushing back the obscurity of dusk and making place for the warmth of company and conversation. Only 13 years ago. I wonder where I will be 13 years from today?
Beautiful memories, love. Can I have them?
About Counting Crows…the really weird thing is that yesterday, I was walking along at “our” house, cleaning, singing “Time and Time Again,” thinking how much I wanted to download that familiar album on your iTunes! How bizarre would it have been when you came home to us yesterday if I had told you that, given that I hadn’t read what you had written here. That’s crazy…
Yes, love. They are yours :)
That is odd :) I’ll have to keep you posted on the musical ambiance around the office more often, haha.