I wrote this a couple of months ago, when time and life and circumstances came crashing down one day. Figured a sleepy Saturday would be a good time to post it here. One can always do with a reminder.
I’ll get to the political stuff, I promise. Just not today. I’ll take keyboard in hand and slice and dice right wing tropes and memes into confetti. I’ll chatter on about Social Security, Iraq, Iran – will we or wont we?, sex, lies and Gannongate, and the crooks and liars of the right. Just not today. They’ll all still be there tomorrow, and the next day and the day after that. Isn’t there some saying, “and the freaks will be with you always”?
The good, now… well, sometimes they die young.
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When my brother died a few years ago I found a to-do list in his wallet, on a tiny piece of paper, and the first or second item was: Call Louise. I don’t know why, but I must have put the list in my purse or pocket, because I somehow wound up taking it home with me.
I’ve moved a couple of times since then, but that little list always goes with me. I don’t keep it in any special place, or anything. I’ll be tidying up the house and see a small scrap of paper on the floor, or on top of the dresser, or in my purse or… well, just about anyplace. Naturally, I pick it up and while it may sometimes be a receipt, or a just a stray piece of nothing, sometimes it’s the to-do list. I’ll open it, read it, and then set it back down on the table, or in a drawer. I don’t know why I don’t just throw it out. I would say that it’s because it’s in his own writing, and I want to keep that, but I have other things he’s written out by hand, entire stories even.
I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore why I keep the list. I don’t know who Louise is, although I hope he did call her and didn’t wait. But now, the list has become my little talisman… and Louise? We’ll, she’s become everyone that is close to me, and everything I need to get done. I only find the list every few months or so, and when I do and see `call Louise” I make sure to set aside a time to to give my old mom a little extra attention, and to call my other brothers, my daughter and other family and friends.
The good old Fabric of Life is full of those little tendrils that weave in and out of your existence, some leaving little impression, others becoming a treasured part. And sometimes one breaks off and floats away, leaving a huge hole in the fabric, before you are ready for it to go. If you ever are.
I don’t know how to end this. I guess I’ll just say… when it’s time to call Louise, don’t put it off. Everything else will still be there tomorrow.
