Such a beautiful poem I had to share on this gorgeous fall day.

In Heaven It Is Always Autumn

by Elizabeth Spires

"In Heaven It Is Always Autumn"
         John Donne

In heaven it is always autumn. The leaves are always near
to falling there but never fall, and pairs of souls out walking
heaven's paths no longer feel the weight of years upon them.
Safe in heaven's calm, they take each other's arm,
the light shining through them, all joy and terror gone.
But we are far from heaven here, in a garden ragged and unkept
as Eden would be with the walls knocked down,
    the paths littered
with the unswept leaves of many years, bright keepsakes
for children of the Fall. The light is gold, the sun pulling
the long shadow soul out of each thing, disclosing an outcome.
The last roses of the year nod their frail heads,
like listeners listening to all that's said, to ask,
What brought us here? What seed? What rain? What light?
What forced us upward through dark earth? What made us bloom?
What wind shall take us soon, sweeping the garden bare?
Their voiceless voices hang there, as ours might,
if we were roses, too. Their beds are blanketed with leaves,
tended by an absent gardener whose life is elsewhere.
It is the last of many last days. Is it enough?
To rest in this moment? To turn our faces to the sun?
To watch the lineaments of a world passing?
To feel the metal of a black iron chair, cool and eternal,
press against our skin? To apprehend a chill as clouds
pass overhead, turning us to shivering shade and shadow?
And then to be restored, small miracle, the sun
    shining brightly
as before? We go on, you leading the way, a figure
leaning on a cane that leaves its mark on the earth.
My friend, you have led me farther than I have ever been.
To a garden in autumn. To a heaven of impermanence
where the final falling off is slow, a slow and radiant happening.
The light is gold. And while we're here, I think it must
    be heaven.

"In Heaven It Is Always Autumn" by Elizabeth Spires, from Now the Green Blade Rises. © W.W. Norton, 2002. Reprinted with permission.

The Almost Moon by Alice Sebold

I was a big fan of "The Lovely Bones" and the first thing I love about this book is that it is utterly unlike her that novel in every way. I read it in two days, unable to put it down. Personal experience with my own demented, flawed and raging mother probably makes me partial. She had me on the first page:

"When all is said and done, killing my mother came easily. Dementia, as it descends, has a way of revealing the core of the person affected by it. My mother's core was rotten like the brackish water at the bottom of a weeks-old vase of flowers. She had been beautiful when my father met her and still capable of love when I became their late-in-life child, but by the time she gazed up at me that day, none of this mattered."

Helen goes on to make one bad decision after another, none of them easy to read. I winced a lot while reading this. I had a hard time with Helen having sex with her best friend's 30 year old son who had grown up with her own daughter. Eww. I understand the bad reviews and the inability for some to finish this book. It is not for the faint of heart, or the young who perhaps have not had the experience of an aging parent.

She tells us the story of her childhood, family secrets, failed marriage and career as a nude model in flashbacks that butt up against the details of the 24 hour period after she smothers her mother with a towel quite unplanned. Through this we see how her mother's mental illness and the devotion of her father to her mother along with his own problems affected Helen. How family is family, and how that affects the choices we make and how we, in turn, affect our own spouses and children.

re-obsession

I stumbled upon this on youtube.  I had forgotten how much I used to love this song.  The first time I heard this song I was about 12 years old, in my bedroom at the shore early one spring weekend in 1972.  It made such an impression on me and I continued to love Joni Mitchell throughout college.  Clouds and Court and Spark were my favorites.  I guess I stopped listening to my music after the babies were born.  Too much trouble, too loud, too busy.  Now I only listen to music in my car and that mainly consists of music my kids leave in my car.  That's good; it keeps me current and I have found lots of music I like that I would not have otherwise found.  But this reminded me that there was a "me" before there was a them. 

A part of me wanted to be Joni Mitchell, or maybe not actually be her, or even have a music career.  I think what I really wanted was to live in the canyon, do artsy stuff, hang out with artsy people and date rock stars.  Hey, I think that's still what I want to do, except for the rock stars.  I don't think my husband would appreciate it and I'm sure they would be pretty high maintenance.