i'll let you know when i get there

I went to a talk about particle physics at the library. I only understood a fraction of what was said; it was like listening to an entirely different language. After a good effort of trying to keep up, I sat back and spent the rest of the talk just appreciating that there seemed to be a good number of people in the room who did understand what she was talking about. Hooray for humanity! We are so interesting and interested in so many different things! We are so collectively capable! I go to these kinds of talks often enough, and that's usually how it goes. I remember writing poetry about quarks and covalent bonds through my undergrad Physics classes. I remember listening in awe to Dan Miles talk about the Higgs boson discovery thirteen years ago.  I knew nothing about it then and understand just slightly more now, but I remember really being in awe of his wonder.  Wonder adjacent, I suppose. More of a science gal in fancy than in fact, but still I go. The part tha...

Reclined at a ridiculous angle, waiting for the numbing gel to set in for a cavity fill, I stared at the ceiling and saw a commercial for a local funeral home that advertised using the faces and birth - death dates of a few recently departed.   It made me feel weird.   What an impulse we have.  The remaining.  The desperate instinct to send into the world some signal when the absence is felt.  He lived!  She lived!  We get the park benches and the plaques and the slabs of concrete and apparently the commercial spots.  Such a raw need, to feel that they will go on.  Some foreshadowing plea that somehow, might we all. Meanwhile, moths seem to be eating our winter wear and I'm afraid to check my collection of old journals and writing that are also stored under the bed.  What if there are holes in it all?  It occurred to me the other day that when I go, there's a strong likelihood that someone might just take a few glances and trash the...