a sound of music

“It’s Saturday.” I said to myself in Starbucks Saturday morning. “Friday was yesterday.” Sometimes I have to remind myself out loud what day it is. It’s especially true on Fridays, where I can’t tell you how many Fridays I knew it was a Sturday until maybe 11 more brain cells lit up and out loud I said, “Oh, it’s Friday.”

I was talking with my friend Jon in Queens last Friday from a bench in the Rhody Garden, and he’s going through some serious stuff which may be neuralogical or organic or some combination, with hospital visits and tests, and I know, at least a little from my own truths, what that’s like, when my brain seems to enact itself as scrambled eggs and I can’t speak, it’s all garbles, and cat scans and MRI’s and the arteries in the throat test and bloodwork, all – so far – haven’t found a reason for every single bit of vocabulary checking out for 20 minutes or so every six or seven months.

So, I don’t think paragraph two above is a comment on or even distantly related to paragraph one. Mostly I was thinking about Jon and just wanted to put out good vibes and heart-mind love into the universe. And Sunday through Thursday I pretty much seem to know where and when and who I am, and when I talk out loud those days – generally not another member of the human species in sight – it’s more to the breeze and trees and cows and things. Which, that strikes me as profoundly good health.