in the park again. admiring a handsomely gnarled
crabapple tree with a shrugging stance and a fairy-
tale umbrella canopy. when i was little, there were some
neighbor boys who'd chuck them at us, the fruits
that fell to the ground across the street. i can't
remember what age i was, or which town or house we
were in.
i can often visualize exactly where i saw an object
last, and i can recall certain passages of text for
quite a while--especially, but not exclusively, if
it's something i've written.
i can only remember a handful or two of specific
scattered episodes of my childhood, though. my partner
can remember funny things he said to his mother when
he was four. i press at, burrow into my memory, but
even high school seems like a blur. i wonder if it's
all actually in there somewhere, with the potential
to be unburied, or if it just wasn't imprinted in the
first place. i guess i get the sense i used to have
access to more of it, and every season of my life is
written over the last.
i've been wanting to join the makerspace here ever
since we moved to this town. i signed us up for an
intro to welding class, for his birthday, which was
really fun. i'd love to be able to use the ceramics
studio, and there are some things it would be helpful
to be able to 3D print, for a/v electronics projects.
"when i have more time, when we have more money," i
keep telling myself.
at the same time, i already spread myself too thin
with interests and activities, and i'm lucky to have
the equipment i've gathered.
