R: Hey, G. It’s way below zero. You planning to show up today? G: I always show up. I live in the thermometer. It’s your job to recognize me. R: Yeah. But your guises and costumes are confusing. G: So? What are you afraid of? Strike up a conversation. Take a risk. R: With a thermometer? G: With it all. You never know. R: It’s embarrassing to walk up to someone you think you know and then be wrong. G: Sorry, but I can’t relate. I always know. R: Very funny. And not helpful.
The barely visible mercury. The snap of the fire. The murmur of the icy river, the taste of dark beer, the sound of shuffling objects indicating my beloved is nearby, the settling of dust and ash, the brain interpreting visual input as both beautiful and fatal. The skeletal view of truths I do not want to accept.
Acceptance itself.
R: Why do you bother to animate? To engage? G: To quote your grandmother, 'Honey, it’s no bother at all.' R: She lied sometimes. G: I don’t. R: I wish you did. I wish you issued false reassurances so I could be calm and happy. G: You can be calm and happy without lies. R: Platitudes and promises. G: Dutch ovens and sour dough. R: Could you just stay in your lane? G: It’s a long race, R. And I love switching lanes. R: No, seriously, G. Many of us realize you don’t exist the way we wish you did. G: Finally.
Unknowability shelters me from dogma and ill-advised faith. If there’s no rhyme or reason, if there’s no hell or heaven, if all we have is mercy, then let me be merciful. If all we have is kindness, then let me be kind. If all we have is this day, this moment, this breath, then let me breathe.
G: Who are you praying to? R: Delicacies and dialectics. Oxymorons and overtures. G: But not me? R: Oh, I suspect it’s you. The last line of defense. G: And the first ray of light. Within. Around. Through. R: Ah, so humble. G: You think I overdo it? R: Yeah. But that’s just me. You don’t have to change a thing. G: And yet I do. Change is my circulatory system. You want me to stagnate? R: Nah, don't mind me. Go ahead. Change, animate, dissemble all you want. G: Thank you. You won’t regret it. R: I already do.
Short visits with an honest God 