Monday, September 24, 2012

in the blood

I was out hiking the other day and came across an old quarry site, and there were bits of granite laying about that were just about the same color as that old paper weight. Kind of greyish pink, with tiny shiny flecks of quartz, though I'm not too good on rocks. But it got me thinking, and I must be that age where nostalgia and dementia are fighting a battle for the upper hand, because before you can say Newcastle I was sitting on a rock in that quarry reenacting my grandmother's lecture, every tic and gesture. And it was all right there for the taking, I hadn't forgotten a word. The central part with the kerchief took some improvisation, since I'm not in my kerchief years yet, and when I started talking about the woods and could only see scrubby desert all around I began to realize how ridiculous it all must seem, if anyone happened to catch me carrying on like that in an old quarry.