Millions Of Particles Between Us

The customary two weeks of spring for the Memphis area has lapsed, and we’re deep in the throes of early summer, at least judging by the soaring temperatures rather than the calendar. The acreage is freshly mown, fireflies beginning to lift from the tangles of weeds in the roadside ditches to flicker and sway in the settling twilight. Late spring and early summer has Beatrice stretched out asleep for much of the day on the corrugated roof of the old chicken coop, staring lazily about her kingdom and purring contentedly. Inside, I’m willing sounds to shape into songs, short bursts of feedback or tenderly plucked notes, from the string of my Harmony V copy, thunder rumbling somewhere off towards Braden, the ceiling fan pulsing silently above me. In a few I’ll refresh my lemonade and put some music on the turntable, a selection suitable for the season like early seventies’ Dead, or maybe Talking Heads’ ‘Remain In Light’. I’ll let the crackle and hiss of the vinyl wash over me as the day draws down to its starry fade. This coming week is depressingly busy – shows, appointments, errands, but also a celebration of ten years to the day since Denny and I met, hundreds of miles east in a time nearly forgotten, when Obama was president and the world seemed far kinder. I’m hoping we can get back to that spirit someday soon. Meanwhile, I have my cat, my music, my wife, my home.


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