The other evening, as I was sitting on our back porch watching Mark work in the garden, enjoying the glow that the descending sun casts on our back yard, contemplating my life, words and phrases came into my mind ...
I am Joseph .... Not her.
She did not exist.
I did not see her when I was a boy.
Did I ever exist in a place
where she didn't define me?
How did that boy in Salem
become that man living in Centerville
and Bountiful?
How could they possibly be the same person?
I hear the wind blow through the trees.
It is a force - like so many others -
that is beyond my control.
Violet looks out. Ajax surveys.
My man is with his flowers.
Magic.
Salem, Illinois is the small town in southern Illinois where I spent the first nine years of my life. Ajax and Violet are our dogs.
insightful. curious to talk about the identity of "she".
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