When I was a kid, if I needed a place
\nto let my mind idle, our garage roof,
\non the slope facing away from the house,
\noffered privacy and enough discomfort
\nto soothe my conscience: the shingles
\nwere always too hot or too cold and hard.<\/p>\n
From the garage roof, I could see stories
\nin the clouds above my head: rabbits chasing
\nfoxes, a gnome leaping, a platter of ham
\nand mashed potatoes, always mashed potatoes,
\nheaps and heaps of them—which, fortunately,
\nI adore: dripping with molten butter. Hunger
\nwas a side effect of lying on the garage roof—
\nbut I was going to tell you about what scared me.<\/p>\n
I was lying on my side, feeling hungry, and was
\nabout to roll onto my back to begin standing,
\nwhen I began to wonder whether I would roll
\nonto roof or the ground fifteen feet down.
\nI could not remember what was behind me:
\nwas it empty space? Logic told me that
\nI would never lie with my back that close to the
\nedge; panic told me I could not trust my memory.
\nThat instant of debate was my first taste
\nof old age.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Sometimes uncertainty can hang around. (#962) Continue reading