You know the song, my beloved says as he mumbles the wrong words to the right tune.
I squint one eye, tilt my head to lift my ear in hopes it will sniff out the sound of a tune on a breeze that doesn’t blow.
I can’t hear it. It must be from too long ago, too far away.
It’s Wednesday and we have this conversation. Sometimes it happens on Wednesday but other days will do.
I was born on a Wednesday:
I imagine it was cold in the Northeast when I decided to show up. After all, it was in February at 8pm.
And so that’s what I did: show up.
I still show up, even when others may think it’s not something I should do.
But I’m not interested in nots, like
not being wanted,
not being picked for the team,
not being seen.
I untie nots, just like I used to untie knots as a kid.
I’m better at untangling knots than disentangling myself from the nots that show up, unexpectedly, in our grown-up days.
I use my fingers to comb knots from my beloved’s hair. It feels right to do it, more intimate than using a comb.
He lets me, wants me to do it. Sometimes it happens on a Wednesday, but other days will do.
Look, he says and points at the television. It’s that guy from that movie, you know.
I squint both eyes but don’t tilt my head, in case doing so turns that guy into the other guy from that other movie.
I can’t see it.
But it’s Wednesday and my beloved will tell me the other names of the other movies so I will know who that guy is.
Or maybe not.
But it’s a not that doesn’t need untying, even on a Wednesday, because we are here and smiling and not knowing but knowing.
And that’s all that matters.
I’m going to tag my November posts as #NotNano.
For some reason, I suppose it’s just the thought, I get inspired to drip words more often, more regularly, in November. I don’t want the pressure of feeling like I need to write every day, which makes the words drip even more steadily.
Who knows, I might find a rhythm, a regular.
No promises though.