had turned the oxygen machine off overnight because the tubing would get twisted, and she seemed ok without it. but around four this morning, she woke up and, when I asked if she wanted it back on, said she did. actually said something more like mmm hmmm because it seems she’s conserving words just now.

I was worried about the noise of the oxygen machine for the people downstairs; found a long denim skirt to put under it, at least provisionally. looking for some bleach half an hour ago, I found an actual rug thing. I hope it’s helping muffle the sound. what I really hope is that the apartment is vacant.

no, what I really hope for isn’t entirely that.

also hearts

also truth: I thank you here for speaking, for being t/here, for keeping company.

Mary Kim is perfect here about keeping company, and also perfect there and there and there and all of your kind or silent responses, or none at all.  this odd invisible place.  I should call you all Harvey, maybe, but really, just say thank you as once again my friend and my friends bring me to tears.

in good ways. 

mostly

I want to name you all; you name yourselves for me, for us, whoever us is, we are, daily.  thank you. for that and that and that.

because he lived much of the time away and even when he didn’t, even when he wasn’t away, because I spend much of my time here, he would call. sometimes often.  often frequently.

since he passed this phone rings infrequently.  every time it does I think of him.

every time.

similarly, when I hear footsteps on the stairs or in the hallway that I don’t recognize, that aren’t those of people who are always here and so could be him, I think of him, too, coming to see me.

I know. I know.

but this is what I think about.  this is what thinks me, what holds me in its thrall, if there were a less dramatic thing to be held in. not as big as a thrall maybe, but not nothing, either.