Past, Present, and Future

These are the days that I will look back upon longingly.  This is the place I’ve wanted to be since before I could drink, before I had a mortgage and a husband, two dogs and a white picket fence.  In the weeks, months, and years to come, I will remember.  The day I had lunch on the lawn of Frost’s cabin.  The day I sat behind Julia Alvarez.  The day I thought, for the first time in my life, that perhaps, perhaps I would like to write poetry.  I will remember the fog in the meadow beyond the stone wall and through the open gate, the yellow houses against the green mountains, and the dim theatre that has absorbed the words of literary legends for almost a century, while people sat on uncomfortable chairs to listen.  I will sigh, wishing I had the courage to read my own words in that theatre.  I only regret the things I do not do.  But I did this.  And I will remember all of this, and smile.  But today–today is hot and sweaty.  Today I wish I had my own bathroom, and could take a leisurely shower, maybe even shave my legs.  Today I miss that husband and dogs and fence.  And it is always, always today.

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