The First One to Speak Loses

Epigraph is from one of my favorite books.

What we, or at any rate what I, refer to confidently as memory—meaning a moment, a scene, a fact that has been subjected to a fixative and thereby rescued from oblivion—is really a form of storytelling that goes on continually in the mind and often changes with the telling. Too many conflicting emotional interests are involved for life ever to be wholly acceptable, and possibly it is the work of the storyteller to rearrange things so that they conform to this end. In any case, in talking about the past we lie with every breath we draw.

—William Maxwell, So Long, See You Tomorrow

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Day One: Saturday, July 2, 2011

I parked closest to the door: on the left side of the cottage. Driving down gave me chills, despite the heat hovering at 94 degrees. For a moment I choked up, but swallowed my emotion to chat with Janice, one of the groundskeepers. It was the view: wide as far as my eyes could see, not a sound-remember the Simon & Garfunkel song "Sound of Silence"? The wind kicked up, Janice said so long, and I was alone, completely alone with myself.

Tonight, I leave you with this:




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4 comments:

  1. Karen KJuly 3, 2011 at 9:15 AM

    Your writing about it really takes me there. I look forward to your words every day.

    ReplyDelete
  2. MERYL PETERSJuly 3, 2011 at 9:43 AM

    Thanks KK. You are on my shoulder...

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  3. RobynJuly 3, 2011 at 10:10 AM

    It takes a while to get used to silence. When I'm in the mountains, like I am now, it takes about 3 days to settle. I've been here a week now and I've pretty much stopped thinking about Casey Anthony.

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  4. MERYL PETERSJuly 3, 2011 at 11:58 AM

    Ninja: Nice to know you're following me....right now Beethoven and Bach are here.

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