bridgekeeper

 

*

I’m finding myself very happy in the tiny house. The more shit I don’t have, the happier I get. It is a deep and genuine feeling of joy and expansiveness, the opposite of what you might expect. Instead of loss, there is freedom. Instead of worry, there is ease. The few things I have left glow with the light of a deeply loved object, well cared for and in its place. Anything my eye lights on is a tiny, perfect work of art, one with a history and a burned in trail of memories.

The only thing that sticks in my craw lately is my job, which I cannot abide of late. I got no murders to work and all that’s left is low quality, mind-numbing, redundant investigative work for which I have no passion. Which leads to a lot of procrastination, which makes me want to avoid it all even more. I can see retirement a few years off and it calls to me like the best summer vacation ever. I keep looking up from my homework at the big clock over the teacher’s head, waiting for three-fifteen. Antsy and chewing the end of my pencil, my feet bouncing under my desk.

“Come on!”

 

*

 

When it’s over I suppose I’ll miss it.

 

*

 

Not much, though.

 

 

*

 

I hope you are feeling happy and blessed, I hope you are loved real hard by everyone around you, I hope you love them back even harder we are going to be dead a long fucking time.

 

*

 

Namaste.

 

***

 

 

Advertisements