Monday, May 31, 2010
What do I remember? A hot day in May, riding my brothers’ old three-speed bicycle to school, twelve years into my life, 3,000 miles on the odometer, seat-springs squeaking, oil and dust on the chain, tire walls finely webbed, the vineyard smell and houses along the way, clotheslines and chicken coops, looping sparrows, a tractor’s growl. I remember sailing deep into the abiding mission and purpose of things, deep into their hum and steady wonder. I remember the sweat on my palms when I arrived, and the glad tightness in my thighs. I still have my uncle’s pipe. My uncle, dead in the war.