With Waning Faith and No Religion
Casey always told us that dying was being born. You may think that’s reincarnation talk, but no. Always yourself, just coming in again and again fresh and new, unaware. You’ve died so many times in this life, stalling out on one last memory, spiraling into yourself again, you best hope you’re thinking up a good one.
Sometimes I don’t want to fall asleep in case I don’t wake up, I tell him.
You’ll wake up somewhere, he says. And be none the wiser.
I imagined us eat oysters and drinking beer in the shower. It looked so good in my mind, maybe that’s a problem. It’s a problem if it never happens. I always want to show you things I want but it always makes me feel silly.
Maybe I should just go back to Buckley farms. I never wanted to ride in competitions - I’m not competitive. Maybe I’m just too lazy for it. I only wanted to clean the beautiful leather western saddles and bridles and exercise the horses for more serious riders. Chase flags that the horses equated with cattle. Back and forth, holding on tight. riding in circles, spinning in circles, every now and then going super-fast from one end to the other, then stopping suddenly, seeing how far we could slide. Knowing which horses were good at what, which horses liked doing what task. I always loved how I smelled and how covered in dirt and sand and horsehair I would be.
If I went back now, the horses would be old or long gone. Retired if still alive, hanging out with the donkeys. My dad would maybe take me to Jason’s deli again, like we always did after riding. He would make me listen to sports radio and I would fall asleep for the hour it would take to get back to town. I would get a kids pizza and free soft serve, and he would get a roast beef sandwich. But I predict him not wanting to go. It would make him sad- remembering good times always makes him sad. If I were to go back, I would most likely end up going back alone.
I realize driving back from your place in Belfast, Maine to my place in Watertown, Massachusetts, as the trees showed more and more signs of early spring, that good times make me just as sad as they make my dad.
