As soon as Frasier is through, I'll drive over to the Eckerd Take Care. I'm putting off my trip to see my mama for at least a day, as I was only at work two hours before I started making mistakes. I feel all tingly and exhausted, and the sewer people are still out there, working. I guess maybe they did mean 8a to 8p. I just got off the phone with my dad. I hate to put off travel, but I'd arrive on their doorstep only to fall into a heap, even if I slept all tomorrow afternoon on the Greyhound bus.
On the way home, I finished listening to Gilead for a second time. I think I may buy the audio as well as the book, in hardcover. I don't think a book has affected me this much since I first read Dicey's Song, and that was nigh twenty years ago. I didn't sob, like the last time, but I wept. Never has a book taken so much bitterness and made it so sweet. I can almost bear my own disappointments with a little more dignity...God bless John Ames and his namesake, John Ames Boughton. And God bless Marilynne Robinson. Everyone talks about how well it is written. The fact is, the writing is so unadorned that I don't notice it for the story. The story shines through, as ordinary as a prairie. I feel as if I know all the characters and could converse with them if I met them on the street. And how I wish I could talk to Glory. Or to Ames' wife--does she have a name? How I wish I could be there to see his son, all grown up.
I've started talking to folks about leaving. Or going, whichever it is.
It sort of seems a waste, to use such a line for a title of such a short, ordinary posting, but it is the line that stuck out, as I crossed Pine Creek. I took the scenic route home.
Well, I guess I best be on my way. I'm off to look at a queen size bed. Maybe I'll do that first. To get it out of the way. I have a feeling I'll be going to bed early tonight. Oh, to eat at Abaté. Someplace quiet and elegant, with halfway decent lighting.
I am so tired. Well, off I go.
2 years ago
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