Monday, May 06, 2019

The past

haunts. I had dreams the other night, so vivid, of my uncle and my writing teacher. The memories were disconcerting and then upsetting the more I thought about them then and me now. They weren't upsetting; they were lovely. The me here without them is upsetting. Sometimes I wish it were this year instead of this year:

1 comment:

Kurt said...

I wish that too. I loved being a kid in the 60s. My mom would leave me with the hippies in the park while she did her business in town. They'd sing me songs on their guitars. We had a VW bus. My mom made candles in the garage and did macramé and taught me to crochet.

Now life revolves around one's phone.