Re: Last Night
I came home to a moth in our bathroom sink. The sink is white. I think the moth must have rested there, on the white it found in the dark.What I Am Grateful For
It didn't move when I came near it, and I didn't move it when I turned on the faucet to brush my teeth. And so its wings got wet. I tried to move it then, let it crawl on my finger and put it up high on the towel bar or on top of the mirror cabinet. But it would fall before it had anything to stand on and would be stuck wherever it fell.
You don't think moth wings dry, do you? That the moth wings ever recover from being wet? I have a childhood impression that they, or that insects like them, aren't as resilient as we'd like them to be. The moth ended up in the garbage can, resting on a piece of folded white paper. I don't know if it's still there.
What do you think the moths do in the rain?
Stacey and I have often joked that we are glad to be waterproof.
"What's he like?" she might say.
And I might say in return, "Funny. Tender-hearted. Waterproof."
"How're you feeling today?" I might ask.
"Tired," she'd say. "And waterproof."
But on rainy days like these February ones, I am glad to be waterproof. And I'm hoping moths are, too.
P.S. I tried to embed (my first embedding ever) a third-party application to my blog that will allow you to listen to music tracks of my choosing at your choosing (I'm not myself partial to those that automatically play when I'm on a website). (Can you see it, use it? It should be to the right, just underneath the blog archive.) The first track I've added is "February," by Dar Williams. I chose "February" 1. for Anna, her second-trimester baby girl, and old time's sake. 2. Because it's super, super beautiful. And 3. because I've been thinking recently that we should go out of our way to love things in the months they were meant for.