This is one of those mornings. The ideas are backed up like planes at O’Hare Airport.

Almost every morning I write in a Google Form. It is a practice I started after reading Matthew Dicks’ awesome book Storyworthy.
The prompt is the same every morning: what was storyworthy yesterday? So simple yet so evocative. Here’s what I wrote today about yesterday:

 

Every time Elaine works at the park she says, “See you in a few hours.” She is being kind to me. She knows I get depressed without her here. I felt even worse this time. My vision got kinda fuzzy. Was it because I had been inside watching my tiny screen, was it from watching the television screen, was it from not looking into the distance enough. Whatever it was I felt impaired. I felt very ill in a sensory-deprived way. When I retired I imagined having a telescope and gazing away. I imagined looking under rocks and identifying that world. Or I imagined knowing every weed in our pasture. Or….whatever I imagined it was not looking at a tiny screen froma foot away. Sometimes the most storyworthy moment of the day is an idea and not a plot or a character. It is a larger narrative: my wife loves me in ways I ignore much like I have ignored the natural world, a world I always imagined I would embrace.

 

Sometimes I print it out and paste it into my Morning Muse (a nice notebook, a Lihit Labs AquaDrops Twist Note N-1658).  In doing that I copy and paste into a Word document.  Today, I decided to format into two columns to make my printed copy skinny enough to fit easily in my notebook with enough room to annotate if I wish.  After I pasted into the document I decided that I wanted to translate  that text into a poem right next door in the second column.  Here that is:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
And here is the poem as text just to lay it out there:

When my wife
drives away to work
she always says,
“See you in a few.”
So kind.
I get so depressed
without her.
Even my vision
gets fuzzy
and constrained
like when I watch
a small screen
for hours.
Sensory-deprived.
Impaired.
Ill.

When I retired I imagined:
dipping into deep space with a telescope,
finding rare salamander under rocks ,
knowing every weed in our pasture.
I imagined finding the world
not looking at a tiny screen from a foot away.

Sometimes the most story worthy moment of the day
is an idea
not a plot
not a character
not a screen.

It is a deeper:
my wife loves me in ways I
ignore
much like I have ignored
the natural world,
a world I always imagined I would
embrace.
Then what will happen?
I will embrace them both.