Because I was thinking of crocus buds and nascent leaves on chilly trees and how that’s not so bad. Nothing to fear. Kids are in shorts, relieved to shed rain gear. Faces in the courtyard are upturned, heliotropic, and smiling. Easter is imminent. It’s time to think about resurrection. Today the New York Times reported that scientists have revived “cells in the brains of dead pigs.” Blood vessels began functioning. Think of that. What you thought was good and dead could be influenced back to sparking activity. Back in my day, dead was dead, is what I’ll say to my granddaughters. Not so much any more.
Thinking about the difficulties of writing, of discipline, of the limits of my own imagination, of headaches, of errands, traffic lights, dull conversations, fatigue, wrinkles, my current inspiration is to deal with them as waves, to meet them like a body surfer, skimming, sometimes sinking, choking, sometimes riding them clean and sometimes crawling, bedraggled, to shore.
