Loss and Renewal

I recently lost someone in my life whom I cared for, and it was a reminder of how fragile human relationships can be. It's made my blogtastic raison d'etre of Zany Optimism particularly difficult to maintain through the swelter of mid-summer here in the Northeast. It's one of the sole downsides of being alive, really, how we hurt one another, through happenstance, or intent. Hell, famously observed, is other people.

But... as long as we're throwing around metaphorical reference to the everlasting, so is "Heaven." If only for parallel periods of time, we are also capable of such love and beauty and goodness and ..... oh look, there goes a flock of puppies helping a tubercular great-granny across a poppy-strewn super highway.

Sorry. It's Sadie Hawkins Day, and Pollyanna just asked me to do the rhumba.

Straight up, folks. I got no special abilities here to get from point-sunrise to point-sunset, barring ritual handshakes with my homies at KlaxoGlithSmine. But what I can tell you is this: If we didn't know where we'd been, there'd be no way to know where we are. Forget where we're going, for now, because we'll eventually get there, maybe even tomorrow, and look! If that new air conditioner suddenly breaks down, don't fret. I brought a box fan, 'cause I'm cool like dat. No power? Let me fan thee with our thick copy of vanities, an urban palm frond. When my strength's gone, I'll write poems about ice cubes, some of them good. Later, our children will show up to take us on a northerly vacation. If we have no children, we'll chill out to the rhythms of the kids next door. They are joyful, too. Go ahead and see if they're around. I'll wait.

Besides, it'll get cooler of its own accord soon enough, and my favorite season will be upon us, the autumn months. Few things are as reliable as the snap of October air. (We are blessed in the northeast with four, distinct seasons. Love them, for they are inevitable.) And then snowy winter. I have two fantastic old-school sleds that need their blades sharpened. And then wet, and then hot, and then cool, and then cold again. One could almost set one's clock to it. God knows what they do in Los Angeles...

This month the secret to life was wiped from the map. (well, Duh. That's why it's a secret, fool.) This morning, however, I woke up to try again. Why not? I was born to try. And I aim to.