I was walking and watching my shadow yesterday. As I did, I could fool myself into believing it was the shadow of young man…

Well, I’m home after five days of music, friendship, and fun in Marathon, Texas. It was all good.

I found myself sitting alone by an empty chair last night as the final evening of the Third Ever Marathon Songwriters Festivals got underway in the dance court of the Gage Hotel.

I’m hanging with a big group of friends listening to music in Marathon, which seems a long way to go to hear folks play who live almost down the street from where I live, but sometimes you just have to get out of the house, and it’s a nice break when you do.

Went time travelling yesterday. Visited the Chisos Mountains. Tried to imagine what it was like when that first hot vent opened up and out popped hot rock, lava.

Went for a ride yesterday across the bottom of the old inland sea they now call west Texas.

Here’s another indicator of how well I feel. When something needs doing, I do it.

I’m pretty sure no one really understands how good I feel right now. My house is a holy mess, my wife died a year ago, but here I stand in all the debris feeling just as I did eleven years ago when we first moved in.

Gave two of my wife’s little bags to two little girls yesterday. Nick-knack bags with pink felt flowers and the like.

I was thinking about taking a break from writing about death and destruction as I deconstruct my wife’s closet, but it’s pretty much a constant and not really that much of a struggle.

Friends. Yesterday was seismic. As seven boxes of my wife’s clothes and shoes went out the door a new recliner crashed into the room. Continents drifted. Mountains rose. New oceans formed.

I did what I thought was going to be a hard job yesterday. I packed up my late wife’s clothing for the local Catholic charity in Fredericksburg. It was hard.

An unusually wet July and August have done wonders for the khaki weed harvest. Crop yields are way up.

Preamble: In 1975 we bought our first house. It was built by my father-in-law in a new subdivision he was developing in Pasadena. His house was right down the street and around the corner from ours.

While I’ve got you metaphysically cornered, I’m going to tell you a crazy uncle story.

There I was yesterday evening, sitting in my easy chair, after eating a dinner of friend zucchini and venison sausage, feeling all manly, when I looked down and realized my tee shirt was inside out.

It feels like a good day in the neighborhood. I mowed a bit yesterday and pulled a few weeds, because khaki-weed is a real tenacious pest. I even worked up a sweat.

I stepped through the looking glass last Tuesday evening. Stepped out again yesterday, Friday, around noon. This is what happened.

Talk about old habits. On the anniversary of my wife’s death, I decided to remove my wedding band. It’s been well over a week, yet I find myself reaching down to absentmindedly fiddle with the ring.

Yesterday it was dishwasher’s, today it’s another domestic chore, laundry and its distant cousin, ironing.