This afternoon, late, I lay in the lawnchair in my backyard, gazing up at the piercingly blue sky framed by the new, green leaves of the elm. The doves and grackles and birds I don’t know names for called from the trees and electric lines where they perched. I pretended I was on vacation.
I scratched Zackdog behind the ears in his favorite place and watched his eyes glaze over in bliss. The he went off to be by himself and do his own gazing, at late afternoon walkers, the neighbors going to the dumpster, a car driving by, ever watchful for the odd bunnie that might make itself visible and then freeze (as if that were some brilliant defense mechanism).
This is my idea of a good time and it’s when I fall in love with Marfa again. At times, something deep inside us guides us without our conscious awareness and we are compelled to act. We owe it to ourselves at these moments to listen deeply to ourselves and not the noise around us, or the well-intentioned advice of friends or colleagues or lovers. To be selfish.
Yes, on days like today Marfa is a piece of heaven. Don’t move here.
