I'm going on hiatus for a little bit. I need to get a couple of projects whipped into shape, and so all of my spare time in the next week or so will be going towards them. I just figured I'd let y'all know before I disappear into the ether.

I did have a lovely holiday, however. First Thanksgiving with the Southend family--your traditional turkey, dressing, etc meal, all of it delicious. There were eight of us, four South Africans and four people born in the States, and we spent a lot of time talking about the differences between the two cultures. I know more about South Africa now than I ever expected to learn.

And then a day of silence, of playing with cats and cooking and reading and just being a little bit quiet. I discovered the truth that pie crust is hard, as I attempted to roll out my very first batch ever. (It turned out to be pretty good, even if it was recalcitrant.)

And then Saturday came and with it a dinner party, and orphan's Thanksgiving, a gathering of people who weren't going home to family for the holiday. The food was excellent and the company even more so--I met a number of people whose words I've only read online. I had a really good time, helping cooking, cleaning and eating.

And today was gaming and another quiet morning. I'm starting to get used to this, getting comfortable in my space again.

Happiness is good. As is sleep.

don't dream

of your kingdoms, your shires
your out-and-out dictatorships
lying trapped in wait beneath the crystal
your life sweeping the second hand
across them

Don't dream of the days when the backyard
was a jasmine paradise and the easement
was a dusty desert road, the creek
a river and you a heron hunting.

Time to put the things of childhood away,
grow up, forget the toyshelf. Build a wall,
brick by complaining brick, across the places
you no longer need, the gardens dusty with drought
and the hedge maze crackling brown and dry.

Ignore the fire sweeping the plains.
Ignore the castles crumbled into silence.

There are children lying suspended in crystalline dream
at the center of your mysteries, shut away,
floating embraced forever. Leave them
to their hollow silent hallways,
walking down, step after step, forever.

The things of childhood disappear beneath your surface
and you leave yourself notes, stories, anything to remind
you of what you are leaving behind. But each
image fights memorization, each voice fades into stillness,
each blank space becomes a blind spot, the eye
sliding over it in incomprehension.

Don't dream of your kingdoms.
They do not remember you, either.

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