Monday, May 22, 2017

Last night my son sent me a small essay he wrote about leaving Harmony, which he's going to transform into the script for a dance performance he's designing as his final for a choreography class. I cried, of course. He telephoned afterward, and we talked for a while, and then he started reading passages aloud from my book Tracing Paradise--passages he's planning to use as citations in a paper. As he pointed out, there aren't that many historians of Harmony around. He and I may be the only ones.

Anyway: to think that my own son will cite me in a college paper-- It's an odd feeling.

This morning I'll put in my last day of writing work with the ELL kids. And then I'll walk home in the rain. I'm feeling melancholy . . . not because of the weather--it's just another gust of homesickness and elegy. I think that sadness will never vanish.

1 comment:

Carlene said...

Thinking of you.
As I read today's post, this song (Simple Gifts) immediately popped into my head:
"'Tis the gift to be simple/
'Tis the gift to be free/
'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be/
And when we find ourselves in the place just right/
It will be in the valley of love and delight."

For me, it sort of sums up what you've been saying for a while now, about homesickness, simplicity, the state of the world/nation/self...

I hope you find a sunbeam of joy in today.
See you in a month!