I got soaked during my early morning walk today. Through my jacket soaked. Sneakers filled with water soaked. It was a fun walk though. Hardly anyone was out, and lord knows, I enjoy solitude.
I never actually feel like I'm by myself.
I have never ever lived alone. Not even alone with a dog.
When I was a very little girl my mom was the nurse in a group home for handicapped adults and my dad was the director. I lived in the laundry room, and I helped take care of everyone. Before I was even two they started to send me down the street to pick up a grown man from the city bus (Boston) because he had the habit of sitting in the road and taking his shoes off. My parents were very busy and Karl would listen to me. I would say, "Put your shoes on, Karl, we're going home," and then I would take him by the hand and walk up the hill. Then we would watch Sesame Street together.
And it's been just like that ever since, except I don't live with Karl now; I live with Fiona.
I had to take her phone away. She is an addict.
I didn't walk in silence today. I listened to Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass. Last night I was reading Thoreau's journals before bed; he understood a lot about the forest but maybe not so much about women. He died at 44 so maybe he didn't have time to meet a wide variety of women, especially since he spent a good deal of time in solitude. I hear he was a prickly guy.
He said that all kinds of men, carpenters and other tradesmen included, found it in themselves to be sensitive about animals and the eating of meat but that women did not. He basically said that women want what they want and are not logical beings.
He never met me.
I might have cuffed him upside the head.
Thoreau and his brother fell in love with the same girl. She rejected both of them.
That was it for love.
No comments:
Post a Comment