April 25, 2004 Gaze Beyond the Rain-Drenched Streets

It's been a weekend of sushi and digging in the dirt and planting lilies and cleaning up bags of mulch ripped to shreds by curious dogs and sunburned shoulders and smoothies and Lebanese food and spreadsheets breaking down pros and cons of various law schools with my sister and parents and stopping "Discos and Dragons" midway through because I'm not ready to finish Freaks and Geeks yet. It's now a Sunday morning of clouds and a respite between the rains of yesterday and today and Eva Cassidy and Diana Krall and Jonatha Brooke and Joni Mitchell and Nanci Griffith and a little Hedwig and Il Postino thrown in on the side. The dog from nextdoor was here to greet us this morning with muddy paws, and all three dogs played for a little while before I separated them for the sake of the latest imperfect but heartfelt landscaping. I hear the drizzle of the rain ... like a memory it falls. It's hard not to be optimistic on a Sunday morning when the world is wet with much-needed rain, good music is blasting from the speakers, bagels and babies and sisters and friends are on the agenda, the backyard is full of dogs, and there are transplanted daylilies that, despite the trauma of being uprooted, look like they might still bloom. About this time in ... 2003: 4/25: I want to reclaim this day. This date. I want it to mean something to me other than all it once meant and all that it might have been. 4/24: Who knows what in the name of God he will do? I'm certainly not capable of predicting his behavior. 2000: 4/25: He brought me a single red rose on April 25, 1993, and he brought me a box of Harvest Crisp crackers. get notified. journal archives © Copyright 2004 elb