March Please
Whoopsie, made a oopsie
Women in my family placed a lot of importance on being clean, perhaps because there was little else they could control in their lives - Yasmin Zaher
Well there’s a first time for everything. In a great hurry I learned I’d be in transit for the whole of thr last day of March. So, breaking with routine, I decided to write to you on the 30th instead. An early date just couldn’t abide, so I saved your letter in the substack drafts, ready for the month’s true end. But when she got there the cupboard was bare.
The draft is not here. And I think its disappearance is telling me that in-the-moment is a true enough methodology after all. The stuff of life is happening to us all the time. A net of words descends and catches no big bounty, but at least something small and recognisable, with glitter-scales or defiant flaps enough to wonder at for a moment before releasing back into the wordless manifold.
And maybe the missing draft is telling me that March was a mostly wordless month anyway, with a missing last day for me, and a monthlong missing net with which to catch much verbal sense-making. Speech slowed down (and would that be faltering or resisting, maybe both). I became unavailable to most communication, except for practical things like pick-ups and pot-lucks, and impractical but essential things like hugs and singing.
Buying and loaning were forms of communication too:


Until next month, may the word-net catch and release what it needs to make defiant flaps and glitters; or may you allow just the practical or essential things to happen,
H x
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