Achingly Spacious and Deceptively Plausible

I headed out on the trail this morning.  It was cold but not prohibitively so.  Up in the ears, I had these new Apple earBuds.  They are remarkable at cutting off the sound and for the first part of the ride I was appreciating moving along, listening to Brahms sonatas for violin and piano with fresh ears and everything seemed quite remarkable.  The best listening of these pieces I can ever remember.  But I didn’t enjoy it 

I noticed that I was feeling disconnected from the rail trail pathway.  I usually ride along with the phone in my pocket and just play things aloud.  The sound is only an approximation, but you can hear it in the context of the majestic canopy above you and the sound of the leaves and the gravel beneath you.  I rode up on people walking and said “on your right” but I couldn’t hear me say it and I was a bit surprised when they actually turned around and acknowledged my coming. 

I was warned to be back, on-time as the ladies were heading into the city today and needed a ride to the bus station,  I needn’t have worried.  My wife was still in her bathrobe by the time I returned.   They’d missed the bus that left right away and decided to take the train from Poughkeepsie instead.  Soon, they were gone.

Alone, I wanted to chip away at work.  But I got myself involved in reading John Edward Williams, “Stoner” which the son of a friend recommended.  Achingly spacious and deceptively plausible, I found myself postponing other things I’d said I’d do and read the book straight through till when the ladies came back in the evening.  Two scenes, both involving his daughter, shook me.  Once, when his relationship to her is interrupted by the wife.  And second, when he is dying and is sure that he is seeing her for the last time.  It made me miss my little girls, like I believe it was supposed to. 

Saturday, 11/16/19