By Stanley Plumly
When did I know that I'd have to carry it around
in order to have it when I need it, say in a pocket,
the dark itself not dark enough but needing to be
added to, handful by handful if necessary, until
the way my mother would sit all night in a room
without the lights, smoking, until she disappeared?
Where would she go, because I would go there.
In the morning, nothing but a blanket and all her
absence and the feeling in the air of happiness.
And so much loneliness, a kind of purity of being
and emptiness, no one you are or could ever be,
my mother like another me in another life, gone
where I will go, night now likely dark enough
I can be alone as I’ve never been alone before.
Adam and Katherine just left to go to College Park so they can leave at an insanely early hour of the morning for the airport to fly to California. They did some online apartment-hunting here after he picked her up from the Metro and they went out to lunch together, making appointments to visit places in San Francisco, and they intended to leave right after dinner (Paul made faux Chinese beef and chicken), but Adam realized he forgot to put in his laundry.
So since they had to wait for that, and he had realized while in Rome in the Coliseum that Katherine had not seen Gladiator, we all ended up watching that! I worked on my Iceland photo book while they were out earlier and will get back to those photos soon, but for now these are just family pics, like geese from lunch at Paul's office yesterday, keychains Adam replaced from Iceland, prints from the Virginia Renfaire now on Daniel's wall, and a cat taking over Adam's coat!