We keep going back to Eklutna. It opens my lungs and neck… sometimes I just sit there and imagine my juggler sliced open like a sprinkler,
squirt, squirt, squirt… until it is just us in our whole.
It feels so good, I would say, it feels so good, over and over again, squirt, squirt until I have nothing to say… I think that is what I like about it. I want to get to place where I have nothing to say, just be.
I do not feel my arms or my legs. Across the river and into the trees… I just have this; I just have you. my son pulls gently upon my ears as I rest my head upon his chest. He holds them and rubs them. He pats my head and strokes my hair… we slip across the ice, we ride along the river, we crash into the sand.
I think of my father, my mother. I think of my sister’s sister. My best friend.
Until it makes sense.