Monday, June 21, 2010

Is Chicago, is not Chicago

Suitcases for the car, for the closet, for the shipping company. Grilled meat, pot luck, three era's worth of love. Sweat, coffee, sleepy friends in the humid dark.

(Time stopped, flowed, and twisted in a beloved's kitchen, around friends I've known since we were younger than the beloved's son.)

Breakfast tacos, gas, and slow trucks in Nacogdoches. Roots radio, short naps, and language lessons in the car. Conversation, silence, and joy on the road.

(We were taken in for the night and hosted generously by musician friends we are just beginning to know well, given a glimpse into their rich shared lives)

The laughter, the embraces, the stories. The new house, the surprising mariachi, the patio breeze.
The city in sunlight, the crowd in the park, the chocolate on the train.

(Our brother and his family, still adjusting to their new home, offer their shoulders to us in transition, and we lean as we so often have before)

Sportscenter, Johnny Cash, liar's poker. Thunderstorm, ceiling fan, couch. Sorrow, elation, peace.



MsVoyce said...

Kathy, I really enjoy your blog. Thanks for sharing your life so eloquently...

BFFL said...

That word brings tears of...what?
surprise? humility? history? loneliness? love?
All and not any one word.
We have not explored this whole place. This place where we have built a repose, repast, hearth, roof and a few other things together.
Brings you immediately into this place and I also delight in knowing you are on a far away adventure of your own.
Ti ringrazio tantissimo!