Let the day begin before sunrise. Let it begin in utter darkness, totality, a question about whether it rained as the pavement shimmers under the streetlight or its your early eyes playing tricks on you. Let the morning uncurl its fingers while you start the coffee then place your forehead on the yoga mat to stretch your hips, back then right then left. Back arched, heels to the floor—this is how to start the day. A bit of movement, a sling of momentum. Hold the coffee in your right …
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November 19
In a rare moment when I’m in my office, I hear a knock, then see a head peeking around the opening door. “Do you have a minute?” my daughter asks. I’m sitting at the computer tapping out words that I can feel are all wrong. “Yes,” I say. “What’s up?” She puts out her arms as she walks to me, then we’re embracing, my head on her chest because she’s tall enough now that when I’m seated, I fit snuggly below her chin. Her heart is beating loudly in my ear, which has become one of my favorite …
October 29
On further investigation of myself, I’ve found that perhaps I’m not all that interesting. I keep looking to the past—the past as if it has the answers, the past as if it’s a map of where to go next. I’ve circled and circled, twisted and spied. There’s so much there in the past but also nothing. Nothing of consequence, anyway. Let’s just move on. I revisit the poet. Something compelled me to write about Anne Sexton, the first poet who ever blew through my heart. I wrote about being an …
October 28
Finally, in the backyard, some of the colors are starting to shift. Around the periphery are trees turning yellow all at once, as if on command. It’s happening slowly, but I’ve been paying a lot of attention this year, annoyed that the main trees that cover the yard remain stubbornly green. Those trees stay green until they are suddenly brown and dropping in one giant crash that makes a huge mess. Out there somewhere, I know trees are turning orange and red and gold. Some trees are already …
Thoughts on Turning 39
On the night of my birthday, I am lying in bed with my son so we can pray before he goes to sleep. Most nights, our prayers are focused on thankfulness, expressing our gratitude for something that day. Tonight, though, I suggest something else. “Let’s take turns praying for each other,” I say. “Tell me what you want me to pray for you and I’ll pray, then we’ll switch.” He tells me his eight-year-old gratitudes, and I whisper words to God. Then it’s his turn to pray for me: “Dear Lord, thank …