The Random

I've known some really famous people. I am not sure which who is the most famous but perhaps it is the one not yet and this, yes this, keeps me humble. It might be you or him or that one over there. It matters not. I'm in the olives now, thick in the olives and the pre winter, the knowledge that this might be my last one hurries me to finish, twist tight the last cap of this year's. Sealing up time like that and how about this...one of hers (full of old pasta) contained the odors of her home, the cat boxes, houseplants, old cheeses, forgotten shoes. It hit me like the lights do at dusk sometimes when they tell you, Galway Kinnell-style, it's time to go. I just stood there, fascinated and repulsed by the air in that jar. Since then I am careful not to tighten anything up too soon. I'm rather careful about locking doors, hiding valuables. I remind the children over and over to check into the book jackets, to take only what is theirs. I am not sure which who it is but indeed, it might be me. Oh sure they say, it is because you ran into so and so and they set you straight. As if these accidents are accidental.