Friday, September 26, 2014

About three years ago, my mac computer fell over with a white flag jutting up from her keyboard. She quit on me before I could properly back my photos and writings and whatnots up on an external hard drive, and I was left unprepared to farewell the poems and moments I saved for so long. Until this past week. A few months ago I bought a SATA drive, and J helped me pry out the (intact) hard drive from my old bunk computer. I wanted to cry when all my old word documents appeared...drafts to poems never finished, two book manuscripts(still in need of edits). Work I shed both tears and sweat over...words and photographs forgotten about...six years of things, there again. I plucked what I wanted from the wreckage and let the rest go, and I feel good about that. I let go of a lot. Except for the writing, of course. I kept the words, and I cannot wait to read through it all, make edits and rewrites, reintroduce myself.

Leaves fell with the breeze today--I noticed this. The brittle stalks of corn are being harvested--giant machines rolling slow along the rows, leaving broken bits behind no higher than a knee. The seasons are turning. It takes up all your senses here in small town Ohio. The harvested fields, piles of pumpkins at roadside stands, soybean fields tipped yellow. The air, especially in the evening, smells like burning leaves and bonfires. If you drive near the high school on Friday nights you can hear the announcer's echo and squawk at the football game. Mornings are chilly and the deer are plenty.

I'm digging the feeling of both rediscovery and change. Somewhere in the midst of it I'm reminded of who I am, what I want, and what I need. We could all use a bit of that now and again I think.

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