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in bed
I awoke in the wee hours of a very recent morning, and my thoughts turned, for some reason, to how my mother sometimes reminds me in all sincerity that she and my father, both in their seventies, are not statistically due to live through this decade, or how she lately hopes that, if one should outlive the other, my father go first, since he would fall apart without her. Normally I nod in agreement at this and feel nothing, but in my dark room and halfway between sleep and wakefulness, I thought that I caught a very brief and terrible glimpse of the cosmic enormity that she is so calmly facing. I said: "Holy shit."
Just now, I was taking a break from my writing to lie in bed and begin reading a book I earlier chose from the house library. After working through the first chapter, I turned my head, and peered sideways through my own bookcase, over the lowest shelf where I keep several large books, letting me see their many cover designs. I took special note of the type on each, all the letters and words, promising more, all in easy reach of me. For a tiny moment I wanted to cry in wonder that I existed within of a civilization able make such things. I said: "WOW."
Just now, I was taking a break from my writing to lie in bed and begin reading a book I earlier chose from the house library. After working through the first chapter, I turned my head, and peered sideways through my own bookcase, over the lowest shelf where I keep several large books, letting me see their many cover designs. I took special note of the type on each, all the letters and words, promising more, all in easy reach of me. For a tiny moment I wanted to cry in wonder that I existed within of a civilization able make such things. I said: "WOW."