I’m having “I made it” days
Not exactly to any one thing, but in the manner of looking out of the window and not seeing things to dread outside it, and feeling that slow maple syrup tap, the bucket filling over the long, long days, of “oh, this is what it was like Before”, and being so surprised that it surprises you, that you at some point actually believed you couldn’t be the person you were again.
As if you didn’t know how--except of course you know how. It’s exactly like riding a bicycle. The permanence of the damned thing doesn’t stop when you close the shed door.
You just forget, during winter, when the door with the lawnmower and the trowels and the deflated ride-on alligator for the lake frozen shut under two feet of snow, like you forget all things inaccessible. Not of their season. Hushed under cobweb creches. No time for croquet, no need for a pink plastic boomerang that has never once come back.
You forget.
And it thaws.
The only thing that’s different is some dust.
And you.
