Time to write something new. But there is nothing new under the sun. What I have done today, a thousand have done before.
Today I dug a square in the grass to plant in. I blistered my hand. I sewed my wedding veil. I spoke with my husband to be. I fed the dog, I cleaned the kitchen. I poured rum over raspberries and baked it into a strudel. I smoked a cigarette, I smoked five. I remembered when I played the piano, I made the bed, I read a page of a book. I booked 117 nights in a hotel. I tied a bow around my brain and gifted it to science. I hung clothes in the closet that he built. The dog snored. I drank water. Some days I do not. Today, I am happy.
Yesterday I dug in the ground, I sewed my wedding veil, I spoke ill of several people, I thought ill of several more. Yesterday I was tired. Yesterday I sat with an old woman; I sat with two old women. Yesterday I drove my car, thoughtful, in the rain. Yesterday, I was happy.
Tomorrow I will dig in the sand, I will wear the wedding veil, I will remember to brush my teeth, to tell my daughter I love her, to make promises that I will keep to my husband. Tomorrow I will sleep on the coast, near the whales, near the underwater cities. Tomorrow I will be happy.