Home again, home again

I got home on Tuesday night. Nothing is the same. Things seem to be building. I swear each day is many stories high, each with a ledge on which to stand and off which one could easily jiggity jig.

Today is much the same, only several stories higher. I climbed out of bed early, my feet restless. Ready to go, but going nowhere. Wooden parts, tangled strings, no central rod to make things easy. Just a poorly manipulated marionette in bad pajamas, casting an unrecognizable shadow on the wall. I thought of Plato as I curled up with the cat in the sun room. A given. Nodded off as I waited for the deadbeat sun. Each time I drifted off, I woke with a jolt. That feeling of falling. As if I'd let go. As if I'd cave. Then I remembered. There are strings attached.

With those strings in mind, and all those stories, I climbed in the car and went uptown. Had coffee and a tea biscuit with raspberry jam. Yes, jam. As I ate, I was conscious of my hand's path to my mouth. Back and forth it went, smooth and effortless. Hats off to the puppeteer, I thought as I took the last bite. Only one sticky finger. Overall, I'd say the performance was fairly convincing.