The Millionth Thursday

rain-room-at-moma-12It is some Thursday since Georg died, but I don’t know the number. It feels like it is dragging on and on and on, this grief thing. I know, I know. You have to get through it, blah blah blah. You can’t make it speed up, slow down, or go away. You just have to accept it, like being caught in a rainstorm. Grief just is. I get it.

polar bearsYesterday was not filled with grieving, however. It was filled with shivering. It was the first of the month, and I was so busy taking care of the two editors-in-chief of Stoneboat who did the Polar Bear Plunge off the coast of Sheboygan, that I forgot to post a poem. Just as well, because I have not finished a poem in quite some time. But, being that it is Thursday, my sacred “Dad Day,” I want to share something with you. And so.

This poem by William Matthews was shared by friend and Lakeland alumna, Gina Covelli, way back when, in the days when I first started the blog. It is rather fitting to share the poem today, because Gina, who graduated from Lakeland in 2006, is about to start working with us as our very first Community Relations Manager. Today will be her very first day on the job. Welcome, Gina!

Here is the poem. It is about onions. Please click here:
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poem/26735

Meanwhile, I wish you all a very oniony day. By that, I mean a day both hot and sweet, rich with memories. A day full not of grieving or shivering, but of wonderful flavors and enticing aromas. Warm smiles, kind gestures. Friends helping friends. A day to start new things: new jobs, new endeavors, new perspective, new worlds. And if you have to shovel out a snowy driveway, as I did at 6 a.m. this morning, then so be it. Consider it your morning workout. And when February 1 rolls around, I promise to have a poem of my own to share.

I just need to put my ass in the chair and get back to work. There is so much to say, and lots and lots of onions waiting to be eaten.
fried-onions

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