Hear and Now...

It is Sunday afternoon, 12:41 p.m. It seems as if the world has come to a standstill. My world anyway. Everyone's either out of town or sick and I'm not sure if the vibe of this day would faciliate good conversation anyway. Clouds. Humidity. Waco allergies have made my voice deep and my sinuses clogged.

Stuffy.

It's quiet and yet I hear many things. I hear the sound of contentment. I hear Alison Krauss bring me back to the forested cemetary in Yannis, TX. My aunt is buried there. I was young so I don't remember her, but I do remember the cemetary reunion meetings. They almost always occured on days like this. The clouds never revealed their cards, so you could be surprised at any moment with either sun or rain. The leaves were always present. Surrounding you. In the sky, on the ground, and often blowing up in the breeze. People were together but in altogether different places. Bound by death and life, if not by consciousness or deliberate action.

Almost like zombies, but without the creepiness.

I think the only thing that will do at this moment is to lay down in bed and listen to some twangy country music about things in which the only redemption is the sadness.