#39: because poems are supposed to be believable and no one would believe a poem about a fancy lettuce fort in Dog Bite, Montana, where feelings of transcendence are sorted in a discard pile far away from actual moments of transcendence, which we sort into suits and hold like fans in our hands. Until someone gets enough hearts and wins the round, forcing everyone else in the circle to remove an item of clothing. Such a poem would certainly go beyond 40 lines to a still predictable end in which everyone was naked and frozen to death.
Thank you for this sharing this story of their beautiful love, Carla, even as you grieve the loss. I cried but it made me happy and thankful for the few minutes we have.
The cassarole offer is good whenever you need one.
Sebastian’s Thanksgiving lineup:
Fresh cranberry bread (out of the oven just now) and Guatemala coffee
Tart apples and Manchego for snacking
Hot apple cider with this
Chips and dip (five kinds, including shrimp dip that Serina made)
Brussel sprouts sautéed with bacon and lemon (not bitter with sprouts on the stalk. Learned to add baking soda to keep the color.)
Fresh cranberry orange relish
Mashed potatoes (turned out fluffy) and gravy
Fresh rolls or sweet bread (went with sweet bread rolls, store bought)
Mandarin-pignoli dressing (pine nuts were a nice touch, will go lighter on sage next time)
Peach pie and pecan cream pie (Note to self: Next time, choose)
Turkey basted in orange-honey
Cooper Mountain Vineyards Reserve Chardonnay (Too wimpy, we thought. Should have gone with a cabernet.)
- Of course you are:
There’s something about Cape Town in November
The days are sunny, bright and longer
And the nights are spent in idle wonder
There’s something about Cape Town in Summer
Those cold nights alone, we dont remember
We dream again of love and surrender.
There’s something about Cape Town and you
It’s something that I cant ignore
And I just want more and more…
What an utterly amazing person you are:
The letting go is maybe the biggest thing that we have to do in this life. We have all sorts of occasions to learn how but I imagine nothing is quite like the finale. I am not necessarily a spiritual individual but I certainly believe in love, in the power of belief. I feel extremely fortunate that I have had to opportunity to sit beside my father and look into his eyes close range, as I must have done as a newborn. Look into his eyes and feel him looking into mine, our hands sometimes holding each other, sometimes not. Life, force, power. It has been heady.