"She'd smoked less than half a joint, but that was more than enough. At first she was thinking that pot didn't really do anything, but a minute or two later she found herself reflecting on the idea of how exciting it is to be a person, to be a self, to have a self. To be a person in the middle of a life."
-"A Window Across the River" by Brian Morton
I just had to share this excerpt from a little known novel that I'm re-reading. It's about two people in NYC who dated five years ago, lost touch and re-connect via a random phone call one night. She calls him and right away he recognizes her silence on the line. This is not to say that I'm smoking pot (mom) or that I wouldn't try some if some were to be randomly left on my doorstep (N.), but just to say that life is interesting. It's also not a shout out to exes or past lives. Just a few sentences that touched me.
A sense of wonder.
Last weekend I moved furniture around in my living room. A. did not like it because one of her ten million spots no longer existed. A couch had been partially covering a beautiful, old window. She liked to sit on top of that cushion and gaze outside so much so that the cushion was permanently flattened. She has another gazing spot at the other front window, that is perfectly positioned, with a footstool just for her. Often she'll fall asleep with her chin on the window's ledge. But should a small child amble by or an old lady with a walker she'll bust out in a storm of barks. She has adjusted now, but have I?
Each time I step into the living room I feel light and this morning sun poured through all five windows. This feeling of space prompted me to clear "my piles" in my office. Anyone who has lived with me (or my father) knows about said piles. Long story short, piles have been weeded and mini-piles remain. I won't worry about it too much. There's an orange globe in the sky. A foreign object.
Living in Oregon I want to shout out: what is that thing?
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