Tuesday, September 8, 2009

...and How it Went

It went well, actually. Most people my age talk about drinking more than they actually drink; we have all (all who aren't actually alcoholic) paid the price of hangovers and alcohol-induces errors in judgment and have had enough.

So we had just enough to drink to unkink the muscles and the shyness, from which I suspect all three of us suffer. We were in the country, deep in a woods, and spent much of the evening simply watching the changing light on the leaves. There was the most beautiful old - ancient - oak tree, with knarled, twisted, angled limbs. I've never been able to draw, but I know if I lived in that house I would spend hours trying to draw that tree.

The word "gloaming" comes to mind, from the old song - 'In the gloaming, oh, my darling, when the lights are sad and low / In the quiet shadows falling, softly come and softly go.'

So, I didn't drink too much, I didn't try too hard to be funny, and I didn't talk too much. I did find that as I drove away, composing a mental thank-you note, I wanted to apologize for any number of things. It took a while to convince myself that I had nothing to apologize for.

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