Every now and then, I'll be doing some task, turning on the stove, making breakfast, and a flash will come of one of those songs I used to have before my i-pod broke, one of those songs that disappeared into the ether. There it is, suddenly, clear and bright, someone singing behind my shoulder. Today it's Cowboy Junkies: "Sun Comes Up, It’s Tuesday Morning."
Guess it's tea and toast for breakfast again.
What I'm having.
I'm trying to juggle the present and the future. In the present, I make tea, and pull my hair back with bobby pins, and write poems. I arrive late to the movies, and sit in the front row, and both of my friends on either side share their chocolates. I know the names of every shopkeeper in town. I walk an extra five blocks because I don't know quite how to get to where I'm going, but that doesn't stop me from going.
In the future, sometimes I think I will be a Cowboy Junkies song, a woman with long wild hair and a man's flannel shirt, sitting outside on the steps with a mug and bare legs, watching the sky above the clotheslines, waiting for someone inside to wake up.
It's hard to be in this world, to be in it and be present, when the other one is so lovely, the one where I’m holding your hand.
