And baby, since you walked out of my life, I've never felt so low

I am returned to the swing of things, the cycle of work and rest, after a few days in Maine. Actually, I've been back since late Monday, but I've been pretty busy, too busy to write, as it happens. I've got some time now, so let's roll.

It was worthwhile being in Maine, but it didn't really have the feel of a vacation. It hardly ever does anymore, at least not in the strictest sense. That said, it was as close to a vacation as I've had all summer, barring the camping trip in July.

I arrived in the late afternoon on Saturday. My parent's had arrived about an hour before me and were about to go into town to pick up some groceries. We talked for a few minutes before they left. I opted to stay put; I'd gone with them last year and by the time we returned to the house, my nerves were frayed, thanks to my mother being high strung on such occasions. No, better to stay put.

After they left, I began reading Folly and Glory. I was about eighty pages into it when my parents came back. I helped them unload the groceries and, wanting to take advantage of the remaining daylight, laced up my sneakers and went for a run. I logged a couple of miles through the sea air, Marnie Stern on my Ipod pushing me forth.

When I returned, I took a shower, made some Pad Thai and hung out with my parents for a bit. My mother goes to bed very early -- I'm talking between 7:30 and 8:00 -- so it was just me and dad until he went to bed around 10:00.

We've become closer over the years, and I enjoy the time we spend together. He's opened up to me more of late, and I get the sense that part of it has to do with the ticking clock. We reminisced about the days when I was a child and he was younger than I am now. He spoke with some regret about the friends he's lost touch with, the brothers of his past made wraiths in the night. As he spoke, he shook his head at how unnecessary it was -- they didn't grow apart because of a falling out, some event that left no other outcome. No, they just became less important to each other and it didn't need to be addressed. It happens all the time--I've been through it.

I followed him onto the deck and we looked upon the stars that stood vigil over the bay like ancient sailors. "When I was a kid, maybe about twelve or thirteen, one of my friends asked me, "What lies behind the stars?", he said. "That really bothered me. I thought about it for days."

"Did you come up with an answer?"

My dad gazed at the sky's mystery, his answer already in his eyes, and said "No, I never figured it out. But I did come to terms with not knowing."
--
My dad went to bed and I retired downstairs to do some reading. Because my sister and her family weren't coming until Monday, I was able to take advantage of the room they usually occupy. Best room in the house: water bed, bathroom with shower, view of the bay. Privacy. To be sure, I wasn't missing my sister and her brood very much.

I went outside and sat on the bench that overlooked the bay. I smoked and enjoyed the silence in warm oblivion. I felt equally alone and one with everything. Maybe they're the same thing. After a spell, I went back inside and read from Folly and Glory before falling asleep.

We went to Kennebunkport on Sunday for dinner. At the restaurant we chose, I had a tall Sam Light, a haddock sandwich, and some sweet potato fries. It was a tasty meal, though the fried fish did scuffle with my stomach later on. Once dinner was through, we walked around and looked in some of the shops. My mother had it in her head to by me something, but I didn't want her to. In a candy shop, she was giving me the hard sell on some fudge. Six dollars for two small pieces. No thanks.

My mother seemed let down that I didn't want anything, so I let her buy me a cappuccino. They had already treated me to dinner, so I don't know why another treat was in order. Maybe because I have a pure heart. Ah, that's probably what it was.

On our way back to the house, we drove up to the sprawling Bush compound and marveled at how the other four percent live. Nearby was St. Ann's cathedral, a beautiful stone structure right on the water. My mother and I went inside and took some pictures while my dad waited in the car.

I had finished Folly and Glory before we went out for dinner. What a read. Bittersweet. No more Berrybenders, no more Jim, no more Kit. What a ride, though. What a ride.

My sister's family, along with my grandmother, arrived around noon on Monday. We had a little birthday party for the twins which included pizza with an excessive amount of cheese on it and for dessert, cheesecake. After all that, I was afraid it would be weeks before my next shit.

I left after the meal. It was time. I love my family, but it was time. I felt, as I always do when I leave, a little sad. At some point in my adult life, I began to feel a little distant from my family. Just perceptible to the naked eye, but there. It would be different if I had a family of my own.

Back at home and gearing up for the weekend, when I'll be playing a set in New Hampshire at NSI's cd release party. I hope to see friends I don't often get to see. I'm looking forward to it.

Tonight: rehearse; read from Daniel Abraham's A Shadow In Summer; Six Feet Under; meditate; and maybe, maybe catch an episode of The Wire.