Finn and I found an old key strung on a cord. It is old and rusty and we have no idea what it might open. My dad came by today and dropped off brown paper bags full of crap that he had cleaned out of his barn and felt obliged to give back to me. My dad and I argued today as we do sometimes still. Over stupid things. There is no wondering about the origins of my rage. I stare into his brown eyes and feel my double helix spin madly out of control.
I have been in a piss poor mood all day and have drifted in and out of annoyance with the boys. I find myself looking around and wishing to be anywhere else than this place. Then I feel terrible and guilty and harsh. I snap and say things I do not mean. I wish my whole day was a Quaker meeting. I long for silent surrender. I wish I would only speak when moved by truth and light and good thoughts.
And the key I hope is for a tiny lock that erases the sad of the day. That turns the mechanism that throws joy into the room again.