Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Well, here I am again. I did not think my hiatus would last for so long, but we did not have an Internet connection until yesterday afternoon, and thumb-typing on a phone is torture. I can barely spell my own name that way.

But now I am living in Portland.

The apartment is still a jostling crowd of boxes and tables and stereo equipment. Workers are arriving today to install a new rug in the second bedroom. The stove turned out to have a gas leak so is currently unusable. But a clock is ticking on the mantle. A little cat is curled up on a yellow chair. The collected works of William Shakespeare rest in a bookcase. A son sleeps behind a closed door. My favorite Mason jar holds a bouquet of fresh parsley. The dishes are clean on the shelves of the doll's kitchen. The sheets are churning downstairs in the laundry room.

Out the back window I see houses and cars and icy sidewalks and no-parking signs. Out the front window I see the cold blue of Casco Bay, its cluster of piny islands, the curve of Falmouth to the north, old Fort Allen to the east. I see a long horizon of bright winter sky.

Directly under the front window, a backhoe is digging out a tree stump. A city bus creaks and sighs to a halt. A dog refuses to give up his Frisbee.

Meanwhile, the clock ticks and ticks.


Maureen said...

Congratulations on the move-in, Dawn.

Good that gas leak was found.

I hope you enjoy living in Portland.

Ruth said...

Welcome home and to the little cat in the yellow chair

HOw lovely to reconnect

Carlene said...

Hello! We've missed you! And how wonderful to have so many new things to connect to your old ones. I was reading some poetry aloud to my seniors, Marianne Moore actually, and we spent a few minutes pondering the idea of "imaginary gardens with real toads" have both, it seems; the beautiful wintry Casco Bay and the backhoe.
And always, the cat and the yellow chair.