Going

He says he's going. Car here at 3 pm. Has 600 km to burn like gasoline. Going because he needs to. His grandfather is dying. He needs his family to know he is here. He's just not sticking around. Needs his family to see him. He'll be back. Will have to go back there then. He'll have the car in the owner's space beside the building. Been spinning in his kitchen since 6:30 this morning: Do I go? Don't I? Do I? Don't I? Do I? Fog under the bridge, sea witches. He'll go to the wedding and drive right back to Fredericton. Will drive to St Andrews tomorrow or Sunday. He so ought to know how Haggis MacHaggis felt that day because he's been going through almost the same thing with family because of this wedding. Still, he's going . . .

So I best be getting ready for the full weekend. Need to do laundry. To pack books to hopefully sell in Monkeyton tomorrow. To pack some clothes. Need to settle on which threads for this evening's do at Darlene's Tea Room (Tea House of the August Moon) on the Southwest Miramichi River.



shirt:
loc: office, open window, chillin' morning room
temp: 7 C, cool blue
sound: Little Feat, Waiting for Columbus