"Time and emotional space for people"

       This morning, Mike and his friend Matt  have gone to a flea market--I stayed home and slept.  I'm glad Mike has a playmate and pal this morning--and a day to enjoy San Antonio and maybe some Mexican food with his friend.

       While they were out, I made my first trip to the grocery store and car wash and brushed up the house a bit.  While I'm a bit wobbly, I feel like I'm re-entering the world again after a brief hiatus.  Anesthesia does that--it numbs you for a while, then slowly, bit by bit, you can feel things again and remember some of the words that seemed to have fallen into a black hole.  I put some frozen lasagne in the oven and finished the book I've been reading:

       The Penny Poet of Portsmouth is an extended tribute to Robert Dunn, a self-described "minor poet" and friend of the author, Katherine Towler.

       After his death, Katie completes the book by writing about ways his life left a permanent imprint on her own:

       "Sunlight and wind take me by surprise more often these days.  Are the days more beautiful than they used to be, or am I simply more observant and attuned to my surroundings?  The absolute goodness of the physical world in all its splendor is evident to me in ways it seems not to have been before.  I am here more than I used to be, present in the day to day. The anxious anticipations, the strivings and imaginings, the worry about a host of things out of my control slowly fall away, bit by bit, and it feels like I have woken up and discovered another life that was waiting for me all along."

       "The knowledge that one's days on this earth are limited, which didn't truly register until I was past fifty, gives a terrific sweetness and clarity to life.  What once seemed to matters so desperately (how many copies of my novel sold) is put into radical perspective.  I want to notice the sky and have time and emotional space for people.  I want to savor all that is precious about this life before it is gone.  At the age I have reached, to experience joy when and if we can strikes me as our truest purpose...."