"...whoever, thank you for this air I'm about to in-and exhale, this hutch in the woods, the wood for fire, the light--both lamp and natural stuff of leaf-back, fern and wing.
For the piano, the shovel for ashes, the moth-gnawed blankets, the stone-cold water stone-cold: thank you.
Thank you, ...coming for, to carry me here -- where I'll gnash it out, ...where I'll calm and work, ..., thank you for the goddam birds singing!"
--From the "Poem in Thanks" by Thomas Lux
Good Mourning Widows. Joy to you and me.
It's a cold 20 degrees 20 miles north from where the World Trade Center used to be. Izzy's in, Tux is out.
There's a blanket of white the color of wool outside my window and when I went out to pick up The Journal News laying in my driveway, it crunched under my feet as I walked.
Ahhh, my mourning joy.
I want to take a moment here and thank YOU for being so nice. See, I'm getting letters, real questions, real comments, real thoughts in my emailbox, and they're coming from YOU.
Whenever I read one of YOUr posts, I get a warm fuzzy feeling all over, and I commence to singing. Today I'm singing, "You didn't have to be so nice. I would have liked you anyway."
That song was by the Lovin' Spoonful *I think*. Remember them?
I just want YOU to know that YOUr comments, YOUr questions, YOU taking the time to spend time on me, well, it fills me with mourning joy and proves we're not alone.
Be well Widows. Be filled with Mourning Joy. Be proud. Because We're special. We're a club.