Saturday, At The River

I didn't notice it until right now, but apparently I've fallen out of sync with the rest of the world. Only by about ten minutes but it's still a cause for concern for me. That would explain why the volume on the t.v. goes up without me touching the remote (until ten minutes later, of course), and why when I answer the phone there's nobody there. Curiouser and curiouser.

The serenity of the drive helped ease me into a trance and I didn't hear her asking me about the watch. I don't usually wear one and so she was curious. When I told her it was ten minutes fast she laughed and said it wouldn't help. I haven't been on time for close to twenty years and I blame God for that. He made me this way, so there. I stopped at the line of poplars and got out. From this perspective they disappear into the distance and I like to think that they go on forever. She was busy spreading the blanket and I took off my sweater so I could roll it into a ball and use it as a pillow. She rested on her knees, watching me get comfortable, and then she asked me to get the basket. I have to laugh at myself. Otherwise she'd be laughing alone.

The sun was so warm that I considered going for a swim, but I knew the water was still too cold. I imagined sinking into the mud on the bottom and never surfacing again. Staring into the sky through a glass ceiling, wanting to come up but caught in the weeds. She would pack up the car and leave wondering where I had gone, angry and alone. With the winter winds the surface would freeze and I'd still be there, hoping like hell someone would notice me.

Is it any wonder when she asks me what I'm thinking I say, "Nothing. What's for lunch?". By tomorrow the grass will need to be cut and then I'm going to clean out the shed. Today is for relaxing.