peripatetic

Ahoy matey big things are afoot.

Wilson sleeps on my chest with his head up and eyes pressed tightly closed. My fingers type so quickly in time with the music.

He sleeps with a scarf around his neck and slippers where his shoes would go. Earlier tonight I thought I was a snake. I do not want to come from Slytherin. I am grateful to know that I am already loved.

Lemon slices in a Nalgene bottle. Music fast and faster. Cat ears tickling my nose.

Additionally I went skiing today. Down the middle of the streets and people stared and one young woman went holy shit! but she meant it in a kind of excited way, like holy shit man that's way cool, and I smiled so maybe they wouldn't realize that I was slipping out of control. I made it to the bottom of the hill knees wobbling and skied on.





Run, run, run, run, run, run, run. run. run.

The bear roars over the ridge.



Nearly ten inches of snow today between the skiing and the shoveling let me tell you I am tired, I mean a deep kind of tired that goes beyond aching, it's not weary for once because I'm not sad, it's just that my body whimpers for a bath. Catch: I am too tired to run the bath.


I vividly remember stopping at that Wawa the rest feels distant and already slightly dubitable.



Wilson's head droops lower and lower. As I type these words he splays his chin across my shoulder. Earlier today I held him up to the window and we watched the crows fly in, one by one by the end there were nearly twenty of them, perched and looping round the trees out back. Wilson's little body stiffened, tail snapping, and he did that chirp that he reserves only for those times when he is hunting a squirrel or a bird or twenty of them. The birds kept swooping in from over our heads and looping the trees and landing black-beaked in the diamond snow on the neighbors' rooftop and I started crying because I was grateful, and I couldn't stop.