Such a sunny Sunday; when I woke up, my window was open, and mild, cool air wafted in over my warm bed. I can only assume I had opened it in my sleep earlier that night. After a week of procrastination, finally I collected my quarters and went to do laundry, to wash the clothes of my trip. For so long I had put it off, reluctant to rid them of their salt and sand. My gawdily colorful beach towel came out smelling of clean, soft, dryer sheets and it made me sad. I left the trip behind. We couldn't throw it out, said my mother of the sand, we emptied it into the flower pot. My mother is not one for nostalgia. Such is our love for Australia.
Meanwhile, orphan puppy has taken to sleeping in my bed. I allow my sleep to be interrupted, inconvenienced. I find myself postponing things on my to-do list in order to bury her in love that will mend her broken heart. I upend my every container of tenderness on her for the last few days she is with us, seemingly doling out more affection the nearer the farewell comes.
Typical.
It is easier to love what I know will not last. This is no comment of the safety of objects lost.
I just tire so quickly, of commitments.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment