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The Day’s Delight: Visitor


I cleaned the house: put away the dishes Ennis had washed, and washed some more. I picked up the heap of books and notebooks, tarot cards, and layers taken off in front of the fire. I swept the floor at last, turned up the heat and opened the blinds on the chilly windows facing the lake.



My friend came to my house, what a miracle! My new house. My in-between house. A place tiled with irregular slabs of basalt and built as close to the water as possible. The place perfect for hosting that hasn’t truly hosted, because you can’t have parties when there’s a pandemic and the pod is so, so small.



We had talked briefly in the dark yesterday: “I miss you.” “I miss you, too.” And then “Let’s get together” turned into Today.



She sat on the couch, cold after a day spent outside. I piled her with blankets. I filled little bowls with snacks (So few snacks! Shopping must be done!). I heated water for tea.



And we talked and talked and listened and talked, and I was happy to have a friend in my home, happy to host, so happy to see another face in the living room that is mine and not mine. And most of all happy to remember this part of myself: the small, social animal who feels, always, the instinct to burrow, to curl close, to sleep with the beat and the breath of another chest beneath my head: the sweetest rest there is.


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