Postscript

I’ve borrowed the title from a poem of the same name by Seamus Heaney. Because it’s summer. Because so much has happened since last I visited this page. Because it’s summer, and summer is my favorite of favorite seasons and all I want to do is live it.

Part of the so much happening is my general reluctance to continue writing these open letters to the universe. Granted, whose reading really? A handful of dear friends and family and people who stumble upon me through a¬†Google search. Or maybe a picture of my boys that I’ve sent (somewhat thoughtlessly) out into that same universe, which encompasses this crazy world.

Not that I want to give any of it up (as my son pees off the deck for what must be the hundredth time this summer). None of the

…marvels and follies

and longings and lies and wishes

and error and humor and mercy

and journeys and voices and faces

and colors and summers and mornings

and knowledge and tears and chance.

(Lisel Mueller)

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And while it took me almost two months to get back to this post (it being now the first of October), I will send it forth anyway. As writing, no matter how I rationalize it, will always be my way back into the world.

Do click here to watch and listen to Seamus Heaney read his “Postscript,” as it is a fitting gateway into autumn and worth every bit of its one minute and forty-two seconds. Worth quite a lot more.

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