Friday, September 11, 2009

I never thought I'd be the type that woke up at 5:30am on a fairly regular basis and not complain about it, but relish it. I forgot my genetics. I'm slowly becoming my father. Right down to sitting by the window in the morning. This makes me smile. And yawn.

These windows are blue with first light, a light blue muted from the heavy rain outside. It is also September 11th, which means there will be the usual litanies read out loud in the usual places in remembrance of the victims of terrorism. This is never the day to question the wisdom of publicly picking at one's scabs and reliving these moments of sadness and loss. It just is what it is. I don't imagine the rain will lift people's moods, either.

For me, if there's reflecting to be done, it's on the concept of change itself, and what I need to change. It's appropriate, I think. I have decided to take my jacket out of the closet today. My fiancee notices the chill more. If there had to be a day like the one we suffered in 2001, I'm glad (is that the word?) it happened at the start of the seasonal shift. There is so much left undone, there is so much yet to be uncovered. I need to see my family in Cuba again. I need to be a little more scholarly.

And I need to write more. All the time. Writers write. I think I've been in such a haze over this job that I forgot what my soul needs. I write this with the full knowledge that there are folks at my company who probably read this blog. That's okay. I know some of you are closet artists. Or maybe not so closeted. Either way, don't forget those parts of yourselves that enjoy being alive for things other than accounting. Oh, and don't forget to fax me that thing. You know, that...thing. Yes, that.

Anyways, yes, I resolve on this most reflective of days to start keeping lists for myself too. Checking stuff off, adding more stuff. Oh, stuff. There's a lot of you out there. My season shifts today.

1 comment:

Brooklyn said...

Do your thing pana. Keep writing--your words are inspiration for this young bori poet