I came home from work today, sniffly and tired, to find the best surprise. There, in the middle of the living room floor, was a white box with a vase of irises on top of it. I didn’t look that closely, and then…
“GUION. WHAT IS THIS.”
He came out of the kitchen, grinning. Yes, there on the floor was my Christmas present. A month early, but who’s complaining!? My sweet little MacBook Pro. I can hardly believe it! It’s really an amazing feeling to work on a laptop that doesn’t take six minutes to open Firefox. Amazing!
But the best present of all? My sweet husband. Not only did I get this lavish present and a bouquet of flowers, but I also got a steak dinner tonight with malbec on the side! And then we watched “Weeds” before going to the poetry reading. The perfect night with the perfect man.
Until now I had been speaking at great length about how impotent my memory had been since the time of my childhood, but I must point out that a memory which is suddenly revived carries a great power of resuscitation. The past does not only draw us back to the past. There are certain memories of the past that have strong steel springs and, when we who live in the present touch them, they are suddenly stretched taut and then they propel us into the future.
— The Temple of the Golden Pavilion, Yukio Mishima, translated by Ivan Morris
Finished that book yesterday, in a pleasant grove in Darden Towe park while Guion and Caleb played horseshoes. Now on with more reading of sense and memory: Guermantes Way, the third installment (and my third consecutive summer of reading Proust) of In Seach of Lost Time. It has been such a lovely long weekend, and quite nice to have Caleb around.