revisiting beloved memories (thumbtack)

Inspiration is falling out of my grasp as the work piles up and days run by. I am surrounded by the events of the state of the world where everything is gray. The question of “what is he going to make happen next?” It’s been an uncomfortable time. It’s as if I want to submerge myself into a pool and silence out the noise in hopes these events will undo themselves. 

To deter from, and as a way to distract myself from such things, here is a look at the past and a dive into upbeat familial memory. . .

I collected shells on the lakefront in the Wisconsin air. Each one unique and fragile when dried out. The ducks were swimming in a uniform line, not far from where I stood in the water. Eating sandwiches prepared with care and love when the swim was over. Slipping on a pair of dry shorts that had stars on them. After I’d gotten home, I’d watch the grains of sand slide off me when I showered. 

My grandpa would visit the city after a four hour flight. He’d tell stories about his father. He’d tell us about his turkeys he took great care of and then cook for a hearty dinner. The corn on the cob he’d grill was like no other. I wouldn’t care if the mosquitos bit me at night as long as I’d get a taste of golden vegetable and warm fibery husks in my hands. 

I’d trade anything to travel back in time to these two moments. The rat race is everlasting. I wish going to the motherland would not be as complicated as it’s getting. It pains me again and again that travel is such a brutal obstacle for immigrants.