November 2024

Not many people come to visit, but if you do, you’ll have to come through the front door now. Park under the sugar maple (still there) and come up the porch steps (still there), over the water line 4 feet up (still there), and use the key in the coffee can (still there). I never used to be locked up like this. It feels silly. A bit of a farce, considering that downstairs the old dutch door (found in a field downriver) has been replaced by a plastic tarp. 

The lights turn on now. That’s new. 

And like I was saying, if you come through the front door (still there) and it’s almost like nothing has happened. The plants on the window (still there) need watered, but you can fix that. Sit down at the desk. See. Everything exactly as it was left. A mug of tea (empty, but still there) and a half dozen half burnt matches (still there). Check the drawer. There’s eight different beginnings to a novel (still there), the pens that don’t write, the pens that do, and the incense we were rationing to last the duration of our long uncountable days together (still there). The important things. 

The books (still there) and the yarn (still there) and all the odd collections of assorted rocks and thrift store trash (still there) are waiting patiently to matter again to someone. 

Sit on the couch. Sit in the chair. Look at the art. Sit, while you still can, for one more minute. The work that needs doing won’t ever be done so now is your chance to sit with me in the living room (still there) and pretend. I heard spring is coming. I heard it cures all evils. 

Light a (still there) candle and play some (still there) cards. Are you tired? Come up the (still there) stairs and sleep on the (still there) bed. Wake up (still there) in me. Look at the notes on the mirror (still there), of desires for this life (still there), and see that leaving me isn’t one of them. 

Don’t try the faucets, don’t make a call, don’t breathe too deep or too long, don’t come downstairs. 

Just be here and still for one full day again, 

the apple house