This Marble

Holding this marble was the most satisfying thing I did today. Heft, coolness, air bubbles, and swirls of color. Why do I think this is hope? 

I’m sorry to be so sad.

I put on Joan Armatrading.

I took a cabbage out of the fridge. I put the cabbage back into the fridge.

I wondered if I’d been finally written off by the people I love but don’t communicate with. A hard and desperate lesson.

I’m sorry I’m so sad.

I changed a lightbulb. But first I said, “Oh no” because I thought it was the wrong kind of lightbulb. My children both said, “What, what?!” And I am so sad that I don’t want to throw confetti around the house.

I stepped out onto the deck where it was already dark, except for the snow which was shadowed cold. 

I wondered, who are those we call snowflakes? The ones with the divided hearts? Or the ones whose hearts just ache and ache? Since this is unclear, I cannot identify as either. I suppose this is a blessing.

I also thought about Canada and their clean-colored flag. I thought about maple cookies and civility. I remembered a picture I saw when I was 10, right before we moved to Montreal. It was a picture of a train moving deep, and I suppose fast, through the autumn forest. I thought it was beautiful.

The problem with beauty is the same as the problem with God. You recognize it. You try and breathe it in. You open your eyes wider to absorb the imprint. You want this. 

But you can’t have this, human. It is not meant to be owned.

This marble you can have.

3 thoughts on “This Marble

  1. Ah, Shannon, I would so love to have a long conversation and walk with you. Sadness is with me, too, but I can’t express it as well as you can.

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