so fragile

One of those mornings where I wake up and after a few moments have a moment of awe that I’m still here.

I call for a tribal gathering with my long-ago gone friends – Bob, Doug, Billy. Yesterday I was downtown, in the Chinese Garden and off riding the Max way out to Milwaukie and back, just to be riding. Dropped off, sitting in Pioneer Square a while, Max-ed home, and not much later a person moved through downtown stabbing people with a boxcutter.

Isn’t life so fragile? I could have been the fourth name on the party list – Bob, Doug, Billy, Buddy. Maybe I already am and just don’t know it yet. But here I am writing in the blog, and in a few minutes I have online work with my teacher and a couple hours later a telephone interview for a job that reads like I could do it in my sleep, but probably won’t get: ancient and eccentric and forever leaning into the goofy. Exactly the way Bob and Doug and Billy would want it.

So, apparently still here, and off later to the Rhododendron garden to sit on one of the benches or another, dazzled and grateful, shining on for the kids long gone.