There was frost melting from the car port this morning. FROST. It’s 39 degrees and sunny and I bundled into my Brooklyn Industries cowl neck jacket with a bad ass side zip, cup of Old Man Winter coffee and am now watching the desert thaw.
My parents just landed. If I look out from my 7th floor office, I can see the radio tower of Sky Harbor Airport. They are there somewhere. I see nothing moving, but cars and landing airplanes. The palm trees are still and black in haze’s shadow. But there are there under it all. Everything in the desert is under it all.

I had a dream last night my name wound up on a list of performers. I thought for what? Sining?! I’m so unprepared for that, I haven’t practiced at all. But a man before me started to read poetry and I thought, oh ok, I can do that I guess. As I’m waiting to read, the owner and editor of a lit mag comes over to me and hands me some poems I submitted. She had edited them to her liking, they weren’t even my poems anymore, they weren’t even words I could understand. She said “Welcome to the Club” or something along those lines – the only way I would belong there was to go up and read those poems as if I had written them. I considered it, they weren’t bad, in fact they were pretty good, much better than the originals I had submitted to her, but in the end I couldn’t do it. I left the poems on the table and walked out.

My brother and his girlfriend are flying in in about an hour. My parents, brother +1 and Pat’s family are all going out to lunch and we haven’t all been together in one place since Pat and I graduated college 6.5 years ago. I love this family. I love watching it grow. Kids and wives and husbands and pets. It feels so nice, after all these years wandering, to belong somewhere.
Pat and I are exhausted. Putting contacts in this morning was like climbing razor wire naked. We have been working all week and meeting every one once we are done and then going to sleep around 11 and doing it all again the next day. And today is the first day of the Vanvasion and it begins all over again. God, we are happy. This is good.

This entry was posted in seasons, Uncategorized, wandering mind. Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to Vanvasion

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


Valid XHTML Strict and CSS