|May 4th, 1959, Laughing Water|
It's May 4th. I use May 4th as a personal checkpoint. Hey, I say to myself, you are still alive, how about that? I started feeling absurdly proud of the accomplishment of being still alive when I was in my 20s.
That's me over there ->
I remember nothing about being that person. Out there, past the line of rocks, is the creek, and past it is the woods, or part of the woods. Those things were still there when I was old enough to lay down memory.
I don't think that person had any long range plans. She appears to be interested in cake.
She's barefoot; we have that in common.
It occurs to me that I couldn't give her any advice—not at that moment. Aside from her inability to remember what I might have said, she was, by reputation, stubborn and uninterested in the opinions of others.
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Note of apology: I'm still working on Polly's alphabet book. It's a gumption-trappy thing.