2007-04-09
What happened is I changed.
I noticed this while reading about a 24 year old and thinking
“so young” and what I need is my partner in crime back because I have turned
100 years old in no time, and I am still wearing striped socks, but my bones are weary like those of a working professional. Which, apparently, I am, though the size of my e-mail inbox might not reveal this, on this particular day when on a walk in the burgeoning spring, a car drove past blasting Otis Redding and I was immediately back in Vermont in the summer of 1998 when C. was on acid, and I was 19 having all the usual illusions about what my future might be like, or perhaps having none at all, thinking very little about the future except that I wanted to make sure I got some good swimming in on this Northward voyage, wanted to make sure there was cheese in the equation, and ice cream, and perhaps maple syrup because I confess Vermont makes me want all the typical things like wool socks, hikes, and flapjacks.