She’d poked her head in the door about ten minutes prior to see if I was awake. I stared and glared back, I’m sure, because I’d been awaken by the sound of marimbas on my alarm and interrupted a fabulous dream in which I had been engaging in a great hug, and touched the shoulders and the hands and lips and hair of the receiver, and it was beautiful. “You found me,” I said, “you found me! How did you find me?” I cannot recall the vague response, though I can remember not much caring either. He was there.
And dear Jesus, there was a man in church that looked like Tim Doyle, old Doyle that used to come up to the Inn and harp on all of the women in his charmed, sleek ways. I’d seen Doyle on Broadway one afternoon in Fargo, and how couldn’t I; a rotund man riding an old bicycle, gap-toothed grin on his chubby face and a mop of salt and pepper on his head. Doyle was practically a cartoon. And I recall being concerned because Doyle the old railroad man had so many years of Western Melts and strong coffee from a caked mug in him, it was a wonder how he stayed alive. Old Doyle, he was generally inertialess.
Yesterday,
I was dreamweaver,
But now I’m reborn,
Our carts began overflowing with the usual seasonal beauty: giant, puffy red geraniums, marigolds, and the petunias that I never much cared for and only saw the beauty of in Mom’s hands. I told her she should name her next dog Petunia and she didn’t flinch. The Dahlias on the end cap caught my eye with their peach and pink blossoms and I imagined them fine wedding decor, or as several stems in a simple vase on a table at a home that I’d once own, once someday.
I was the walrus,
But now I’m John,
And so dear friends,
A French press on a Saturday night was, of all things, the end cap of a feeling. It tasted just like England and the freedom I used to have, from familiarity and comfort. The cappuccinos that I sipped while mingling on North Parade Avenue were my anthem, gone now and a thousand or so minutes away. They tell me I’ll want to go back soon, and I do; but not before I find myself here, like I did there. Not too soon, but someday soon. Thus begins, once again, a new chapter.
You just have to carry on.
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