On my to-do list today:
Take deer to food processor in Monticello to be made into cube steak and other recognizable things, wrapped in white paper. Mr. Moon already has the giant cooler in the back of my vehicle and all I have to do is drive it over there.
Sometimes I wonder how I got here.
Here being a life where I take a deer to a food processor.
It rained gently all night and that will either help the garden or rot the seeds. We shall see which. Despite the gentle sound of the rain, I had weird dreams. My mother was involved. She was very much alive and I was confused in my dream because I remembered her dying.
How can this be? I wondered. I knew she had died, and yet here she was, very much alive, living on her own. I thought perhaps I should go to a therapist to figure this out.
Another woman I'd known as a child appeared but I knew she was a ghost. We had a little chat and then I watched her dissolve.
"You are so beautiful," I told her, and indeed she had been. One of the kindliest women I'd ever known.
No wonder I feel strange this morning, a bit anxious, not sure what I should be doing besides taking in the deer. I haven't seen Owen or Gibson for a few days and that feels odd. I haven't seen August in two days and that feels odd as well.
I suppose I'll just let the day unfold as it will.
Meanwhile, the rain patters, the chickens bawk, the cats walk the yard, that train is long gone, the online news is as bizarre and dreadful as ever and for the lucky ones, life goes on.