There's something pushing me as far as I can go

[sovay]

It is my brother's birthday. The monarch butterfly which my mother discovered as an egg on a milkweed leaf last week and tenderly brought inside to be sheltered from hungry birds and fed on fresh-picked milkweed eclosed and flew free this afternoon, she hopes to join its kindred in migration; she showed me pictures of the transparent empty chrysalis, the wings like black and gold stained glass. My physical situation which had been cautiously mending has rather abruptly cratered. And Toni Morrison died. I go back and forth between feeling philosophical about the constant changing of the universe and thinking that a small amount of stability really wouldn't hurt anyone.

Comments

[oracne]

It is also the birthday of the sister immediately above me!

I know Toni Morrison was 88, but it still seems too soon. Like with Ursula. Our writing mothers.

I hope you feel better soon.

[sovay]

It is also the birthday of the sister immediately above me!

Happy birthday to her!

I know Toni Morrison was 88, but it still seems too soon. Like with Ursula. Our writing mothers.

It feels very much like losing Le Guin: yes, people of her age die, but not her, not now; it's like losing earth or stars.

I hope you feel better soon.

Thank you.