Oh honey. That is alsmot the most beautiful, poignant thing I've read of yours. Just so beautiful.
our next walk will be
in a hundred acre wood
where crows
still power our hearts
Oh!
I try to dream of Dad as I have the same feeling - that you're dreaming of being awake and they are there.
I've been reading Pedro Paromo - have you read it? It's the book that brought Marquez's 100 Years of Solitude into being - he said without that book, he wouldn't have written it. It's really dream like - Paramo is searching for his father in a haunted village. The novel has this hypnotic flow of dreams, memories, desires - the line between reality and dreams, the present and the past, is really blurred. It struck me that this is sometimes what grief is like - you are walking in a wood in winter and at the same time it's summer and you are holding hands with the one you love, and you can feel the sun on your face but you know it's not really there, you know? I'm not sure if I'm explaining myself right. I wanted to write a short story based on my father using Pedro Paromo as an influence but I can't figure out how to do it yet.
I know exactly what you mean! I've been living it for a couple years now. It takes someone very important to you to die to trigger that kind of reality.
I have never read Paromo, I'll see if my library has it. Thanks for the suggestion, it sounds like my kind of book. I love 100 years of solitude and reread it periodically.
I sure look forward to your short story! Try to tag me, or let me know you've written it somehow. I don't want to miss it.
It's still just a concept. Very ethereal. I'll keep thinking about how to do it.
I wrote it... It's published xx