Raven in Flight

 Raven in Flight / Oil on canvas / 5x7 unframed / $68 including shipping

THIS MORNING, the birds are singing, the air is clear and thin, and sweet with the smell of roses and honeysuckle and some white-flowered bush whose name I don't know. 

Yesterday, I saw a hummingbird, the second one I've seen all spring. And last night, I saw a firefly for the first time this year. 

The garden is blooming with coreopsis and tiger lilies, hostas and hollyhocks, and it is a day with promise and possibility and all the sunny length and breadth of June. 

And in every minute of it, every moment, I miss Peter, and long to share it all with him. 

I apologize if my memories and my sense of loss are too much for all of you. I thank you for reading, and for sharing and for being with me as I work my way through this. One thing I've learned is to hold my loved ones close, every day, and be gentle with them, and forgiving, and always, always remember that we are all here just for a moment. Just for this moment. 

***

For Today

"The main thing is to be moved, to love, to hope, to tremble, to live." 

- Auguste Rodin

Raven

Raven / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 unframed / $68 includes shipping

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I USED TO THINK that the most boring conversations on the face of the earth involved someone telling me - in detail - about their medical problems. 

Now, I think the most boring conversations on the face of the earth involve people holding forth  as experts - which they are not - on the coronavirus.

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For Today

Uptown, Minneapolis, Minnesota

Even though it's May & the ice cream truck

parked outside my apartment is somehow certain,

I have a hard time believing winter is somehow,

all of a sudden, over - the worst one of my life,

the woman at the bank tells me. Though I'd like to be,

it's impossible to be prepared for everything.

Even the mundane hum of my phone catches me

off guard today. Every voice that says my name 

is a voice I don't think I could possibly leave

(it's unfair to not ask for the things you need)

even though I think about it often, even though

leaving is a train headed somewhere I'd probably hate.

Crossing Lyndale to meet a friend for coffee

I have to maneuver around a hearse that pulled too far

into the crosswalk. It's empty. Perhaps spring is here.

Perhaps it will all be worth it. Even though I knew

even then it was worth it, staying, I mean.

Even now, there is someone, somehow, waiting to me. 

- Hieu Minh Nguyen

Raven

 Raven / oil on black canvas / 5x7 unframed / $68 including shipping

THIS MOTHER'S DAY, Erika gave me what might be the best gift I've ever had.

After Peter died, I gave her his beloved Guild guitar. She brought it to have some repairs made, got the strings from it and had a jeweler friend of hers and mine make earrings from those strings.

They are circles, representing - according to a slip of paper in the box - "notions of wholeness and original perfection, the self, the infinite, eternity, timelessness and all cyclic movement - the infinite nature of energy, and the inclusivity of the universe.

From each circle dangles a garnet, which is Erika's and Peter's birthstone. It is also "known as a spiritual stone of higher thinking and self-empowerment. It is a stone of prosperity, abundance, strength and safety."

She also included in the package her original drawings, and the rest of the strings.

Of course, I wept.

Now I will wear these earrings and they will help me heal, help me get on with life, bringing Peter and Erika with me, the past and the future, as bright and round and eternal as can be. Every time I wear them, they will remind me of the best of life - love and faith and hope and family. And art.

Can you see? Just past the wrinkles and just before the color-growing-out hair...

***

An Invitation

THE MARK TWAIN HOUSE, in Hartford, CT, is a great place, important, and around the corner from where my brother and his family live. It is hosting a series of online literary events during The Great Confinement, as Rand calls it (Rand is Rand Richards Cooper, my brother). 

On Tuesday, May 12, at 7 p.m., Rand - who is a terrific writer and a longtime restaurant reviewer - will be reading a memoir essay about restaurants. 

To incentivize people to attend online on Tuesday, Rand is pledging to donate $5 for each person who registers for the event. The money will go to CHEF, the Connecticut Hospitality Employee Relief Fund, which gives grants to out-of-work restaurant employees. Rand will donate up to $1,000. 

So - it's for a good cause, you can make my brother pay up, and in addition, you'll hear a thoughtful and engaging essay (I've heard this one - it'd good!) 

Here's the link to register - https://www.crowdcast.io/e/rand-cooper-on-listening/register

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For Today

Biological Reflection

A girl whose cheeks are covered in paint

Has an advantage with me over one whose ain't. 

- Ogden Nash

(OK, I am sure he's talking about makeup, but I prefer to think he's talking about paint.)