And here I am. I was resolved not to do it. Let it die in peace. Why kick the corpse?
But who knows? My cycles will surely come around again -- it about has to happen, even as far fetched as it seems right this minute -- then I'll be happy to know that I kept a scarlet thread running, keeping up at least a pulse along the way in these dog days.
But what if the dog days of oblivion go on forever? That can't happen. At some point I'll know just like I know everything else. I could sit -- I believe I could -- sit and stew over it in some religious way and know. Whether I love it or not isn't really in question. Whether it's worth showing my love by actually doing it, that's the critical thing.
I have my Grandma Slump picture in a frame on my shelf, looking over me in its unchanging way. She's not going away. Someday when I'm 85 and in a nursing home I'll have her picture there to remind me of when I was no longer young but not quite 85. Then I'll be removed from the whole scene and these days will be forgotten.
OK, we're drifting out of here.