Good morning, self. We, self and I, look to some +Time+ soon and very soon. Happy Holidays, the holiday season has started actually, some schools having Thanksgiving Week off, short cruise after Thanksgiving with a destination wedding party, keep the Xpistos in Xmas till New Years, then soon and very soon that will include seeing my brother’s face again.
Lovely out this morning, waning moon high, lighting clouds and the Bay, solitary shrimp boat off 7H, cool breeze. Blue velvet chair in Beck bedroom, browsing the desktop of my old original MacBook to see what I’d left on it before its own semi-retirement like mine.
In a 2013 file loaded with miscellaneous cleared from the desktop, a file entitled PICS Special. When both are fading anyway, is there any neural difference between memories and fantasies down roads not taken, when history is all in the mind anyway? Not haunts, but sits there in a back room like Rodin’s Thinker, long dormant then quickens on opening various doors. That yellow 1951 Cadillac with the black top that someone stole from my garage out back. I'd left the door ajar.
November at the old place, the cassia we brought from Apalachicola an explosion of yellow, gorgeous, but the bush was scraggly hideous the rest of the year.
There’s our black 1935 Chevrolet Master Deluxe coach again, except ours had WSW and yellow spoke wheels. Many memories.
Long years ago forgotten here, someone’s little lamb gone to be with Jesus and alive forever in the Mind of God.
Springtime at the old place, azaleas transplanted from the house on Massalina Bayou, where Anderson and I'd planted them in the 1940s
No matter, it’s all the same to me.
Rain? Promises, promises - - -
DThos+ in +Time+