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What the Living Do
But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass,
say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a cherishing so deepfor my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m speechless:
From Marie Howe, “What the Living Do”
I am living. I remember you.
The living fall apart and back together.
Falling apart and back together looks like laundry and child care. The falling apart and back together looks like making meals and fixing things that break. The falling apart and back together looks like grieving those we lose and celebrating those we love. The falling apart looks and back together looks like stitching and mending. The falling apart and back together looks like deep breaths and uncontrollable sobs.
The falling apart and back together happens at home. The home of our body. The home of our mind. The home of our family writ large. The home of our community. The home of our earth.
The living fall apart and back together.
Home is seasons and tides. Home is the root and the bud. Home is hard and beautiful. Home is impermanent and everlasting. Home is walls and doors and windows. Home is the ebb and flow. Home is the vastness of the everyday.
Howe understands home. She understands the ease at which we can lose sight of what is in the longing for what was or will be, the lamenting for where we have been, are, or will be, the grasping for certainty in a world of quicksand and stardust. She asks us to look deeper, walk through doors, see our reflections, and remember. She asks us to be grateful for it all, for home in all its truth.
About Katie
Born in Louisville. Live in Atlanta. Curious by nature. Researcher by education. Writer by practice. Grateful heart by desire.
Buy the Book!
The Stage Is On Fire, a memoir about hope and change, reasons for voyaging, and dreams burning down can be purchased on Amazon.