It’s been a while, but I need to write. About loss this time.

Maybe I’m always writing about loss. How to reconcile with losing. Losing to those I was taught we should not be losing to especially, justice weeping endlessly.

Losing to time. Constantly losing to time.

Losing to the weight of expectations, and to paralyzing confusion. What is goodness, and how am I always just ‘a little off measure’? How does that ‘little off’ translate into such wonky catastrophes? How big is my blind spot anyway!?

Trying too hard. Not trying hard enough. Not surrendered. Not playful.

What am I rambling about?

About driving him up the coast when he didn’t want to go. He wasn’t ready, and feels betrayed. By time, by us, by God I think, although he wouldn’t say that aloud. What choice was there? Is there now?

Is there?

I think, “If I hadn’t followed my heart about that ‘back there’, I might have afforded to follow my heart more closely this time.” But Is that true? Life brings us all to our knees occasionally.

There’s no good time to relinquish the illusion of will, but I situate myself on the boundary.

For days, I’ve been beset by oranges, and by the scent of citrus. I sparked this I think, telling a story of a teacher who smelled like orange blossoms, and the purchase of some oils.

Then came the cardinals – a family of three making my balcony their own. Their insistent chirping is more like chattering, so I find myself arguing with them about the other side they are said to symbolize.

There were also three deer today (very unusual!). And two odd lizards.

It all seems so thin.

Which is fine, more than fine, but does it have to be so hard?