A Triad.
A Triad.
❤️
I’m wearing my husband’s undershirt from this afternoon’s Mass. It’s smells like him — a hint of cologne & a breath of his body, it’s more fresh than the evening storm that rolled in about 2 hours ago. This one is newer than his other t-shirts, and therefore, thicker.. not having yet hit the sheer, cool feel of thin linen as a t-shirt ages. He sits near me, reading a 60’s mag on gravity I picked up at an antique shop this weekend.. I wonder about the shirt he wears now. If it’s more thinner.. smells more like him.. is this the one he tucked under his pillow last night? I’ll soon take it off him and see..
—
Little daughter has a paper (“ “) a bit overdue. It’s a 300 missive on architectural columns. I pop in and ask her what she’s going to say. She says she has to find out whether they’re Archaic, Helenic, or Roman. So, you’ll have to define it & explain? Yes, she says. Obviously, she wants me to say goodnight, she has less than an hour to complete this [late] work, but I already know have the time she’ll use in researching & finding definitions, the other half in structuring her paragraph.
Remember when you define something definitively, and say it is this, you can also define it by what it is not. Such as, it is Archaic of this reason.. and cannot be Helenic for this reason, nor Roman for this reason. It’ll make purposeful “filler.” Her eyes grow wide, her lips purse into an Oooo & she is not longer ushering me goodnight with her sweet face.
Remember triads, B.. move your writing into 3 parts, get down what you have to say, then go back & elaborate.
I’m content I’m still useful as a writer & a teacher to my children..
—
It thundered so, tonight. The lightning app said there were several strikes some third-of-a-mile from the house. When the storm rolled in, I asked my husband to roll open the window so I could hear it as I graded papers. ..he went back to his game and the loudest strikes hit for an interval of 10 minutes before the angriest part of the storm moved away.
Rain was a backdrop to the tapping of my keyboard, the clicks of my mouse. Soon, all I could hear was the soft steady stream of the rain coming off the room, with a sheer curtain of light rain a mere foot away from me beyond the window. Rolling thunder continued to growl in the distance.. persistent, not wanting to leave & disappear yet, a petulant presence who insisted on being known.. heard.
The storm spoke very much like life.
Consistently moving, breathing a rhythm only broken by whatever constructs, structures I put up, angle, build, lean against, hide under.. harmless, tempo’d tapping against, along my arrangements. Harmonic and steady, making peace with my designs.. In the distance, disruption that fades. It’s always there, but who cares. What’s closest to me is a beautiful pattern of raindrops, each one subtly fighting one another for the chance to beat in time with my heart. I’m not supposed to know this, it’s a game to them.. to the woman sitting in the dark before large screens, clicking away.
Some sounds can’t compete with the inborn, the innate.. the immortal.
All my love.
❤️
in Love,
your veronica
—
In Spiritu Tuo, ad gloriam Patris. 9.24.2023, Our Lady of Ransom.
