Today the light shone-the sun beaming through a clear, blue November sky.
As I walked I thought of Mary Oliver and her words:
Do you need a prod?
Do you need a little darkness to get you going?
Let me be as urgent as a knife, then,
and remind you of Keats,
so single of purpose and thinking, for a while,
he had a lifetime.
* From Oliver’s “The Fourth Sign of the Zodiac” which is published in her collection Blue Horses, The Penguin Press, New York, 2014
But today I don’t need the darkness.
It has done its job.
It has been my constant companion and I am grateful, for darkness has helped me to see this
this beautiful day.
And all I can think is, “Live.
It is the only thing you haven’t done;
Perhaps you tried, but
only in the space of shadows.”
A lifetime should not be reduced to a blot on a page.
The story is elsewhere
on clean, white paper.
written in a pen that doesn’t bleed.
The chair was out of place. The design was early American, so it did not fit in with the rest of the room’s Ikea aesthetic. We used to keep it upstairs in our bedroom where I paid it little attention-probably because it functioned as a catchall for our laundry and was usually buried under mounds of clothing. But, when we needed extra seating to accommodate guests, we brought it down to the living room and placed it near the bottom of the stairway where it remained, standing there dignified but an outlier, small and stiff, like something an 18th century scholar would sit in as he pored over musty books, straining his eyes to read by the dim candlelight.
Rarely did anyone choose to sit in the chair-I assumed because it looked so uncomfortable. But there was something else about it-a quality of being already occupied, as if one would need to whisper into the air, “pardon me, but mayI have that seat now?” if she wished to use it. At night, when I’d turn off the lights, I’d dash upstairs, not wanting to be left alone in the dark room with whatever sat in that chair. I could feel its gaze though, watching me take my leave, and when I’d wake during the witching hour, I’d think about the living space below and wonder.
Eventually we moved, but we did not bring the chair along with us. Whatever company it kept, I was finished entertaining.