"Just An Observation"

This is a response to an email I received.

Colors droop overhead as a sky-wide drape, brightening the shadowy dew-dripped neighborhood in the wee hours of morning, and coats the dark like a descending web of pastel potential in my surrounding vista walk to retrieve the morning paper. She's there, already, always, in my mind.

Reaching out to me, almost scolding me from afar, her words touch my skin in my surprise and her possible concern. This extended communication is uncomfortable for both of us, I think too much, her words contain the familiar tone.

I stayed up late the evening I found her message, and thought over many feelings and memories and responses.

I crafted many retorts, defenses, justifications...then I considered not responding; it would be easy to never reply to a tentacle of the deep past, pretend it never was seen.

Your observation is truthful, it is stinging in the acuity, the simplicity collapses my complex, imaginary architecture of procrastination and delay. Yet, you do not spur me forward. You are not an inspiration. The words in your letter's injunction in my stagnant repetition of living is simply a gauge of my inaction. I do, indeed, see your point.

I'm somewhat comforted to find your life is good. I'm confused by you asking how I am, as if you haven't already determined I'm aloof or off track. And I wonder, truly ponder, if your quick message wasn't more than a guilt-ridden Hallmark, missing either the "I'm sorry", the "Thank you", or the "Just thinking of you".

Sunrise, sunset
Remember...forget
The shared past