Robert’s grandparents, father on the left and uncles on the right

The picking through the piles has begun. Piles and mountains the size of Everest. Photos, so many photos. Sorting, so much sorting. Recreating albums, ditching hundreds of duplicates and realizing that everyone in every photo from previous generations is gone. And, then realizing that the previous generation has been usurped by the present generation and we’re going.

I sit on the floor surrounded by paper and archive someone else’s life; I haven’t had the time to archive my own. I have been given ownership and the responsibility has been bestowed. And in all of this responsibility there is disbelief. Every photo jars me with the reality that it was long ago. I can’t process was has evolved. So,

On this Saturday morning
between piles of images, vitamins, and gray, damp air,
betwixt tears and breakfast musings,
beyond the ear worm of
Tower to Power’s, “So Very hard To Go,”
and a mini bagel thawing,
I leafed through love words
in The Times Magazine.
Leaf, leaf, through to someone’s love story
involving Pablo Neruda: His description looked up from the page
and scolded me for not writing for weeks
but my words were hollow reflections of sad thoughts
so why bother?
And then I read this while I smeared the cream cheese
and thanked
Pablo.

The Poems That taught Me How To Love
https://www.nytimes.com/2024/04/18/magazine/pablo-neruda-love-poems.html?unlocked_article_code=1.l00.rZJ1.qw-Z7CSZN1nA&smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare
Love is a tricky animal that wanders in through narrow openings, looking to be fed. It stays a while and makes itself at home, or, it sneaks out  the way it came, into a different heart. When it goes, it is never forgotten.

The Cerebral Jukebox is playing.

Tower of Power
So Very Hard to Go (oh, that arrangement!)

📌That series starts here:
Part 1: And The Band Played On … a mother’s life, a daughter’s journey
(becomes the husband journey)

The previous post is here

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