By Richard Meier
The child thought it strange to define words with other words. What did you draw? The man thought he was looking at a purple oval with a touch of yellow. I drew that, the child answered ecstatically, feeling the paper with his finger. The frost is a little behind the shadows. A slash of tree trunk and the L of the roof. We hate a work of art that finds designs inside us, better to lie in the fog of melting snow and see the lake that remains and the person who has left, the ones we would rather not see but do in this reduction. What I loved about the little box full of hair elastics and bobby pins was my own wonder at the little squares of wood, 6 to a side, each of which had its own cross-section of branch, as if it had found something that could be wholly repeated when dispersed. The child, between the toilet and the window, liked the way it opened and spilled the many-colored elastics. An after-image of the monks spot-welding an iron fence in orange robes at night while we drove past fell apart in the nest of elastics, blue and orange among them. The ruins of December are full of people. Feeling is lost. The melted lake, re-frozen, clear as a picture plane in the public park, drags in its current a bit of duckweed torn at the root, bright-green, but it stops when the skater does and reveals its stasis. Further out, a void that can be seen clearly through this fiction starts the world in orbit around involuted space. Participation is voluntary as the wind pushes a glove and a cry faster through the deeps of sky and cloud than the ear and hand that released them. Now that the ocean is gone I am sail and ship, but the embargo on motion means he can only be thrown away, the hour you were queen. Go to work we tell the child. Go to work, go to work, go to work.
Thursday was gorgeous -- 72 degrees, sunny, breezy -- and I saw far too little of it. Remember how I said we didn't think Adam had strep because the quick test was negative? Well, I got a call around 9 a.m., after he had been at school for several hours, to tell me that the culture was positive. So I ran over to the school to pick him up, then ran over to CVS (whose pharmacists took as long as humanly possible to double check an insurance card they've had on record for many months) to pick up his antibiotics.
Then I got him some butternut squash soup and we had lunch together and watched Ferris Bueller's Day Off, which Adam had decided was the perfect school absentee movie even if he was legitimately home sick. When Paul got home, I went out for a walk, but other than laundry I am behind once again on everything and clearly it is just going to be that kind of week. We watched Awake and the DS9 episode I need to review on Friday, which is my mother's birthday so we are having dinner at our house instead of hers, and I have to get the review posted beforehand. Have some flowers from Longwood Gardens:
Happy birthday Mom!