Led Crown

4^th November in 2010

Dear Cassi,

I just got the text about the poor fellow bumping his head so by the time you get this you will know if he is alright. What may appear minor to we of able body can be so pronounced among the fragile. Then, a head injury is never to be scoffed at. Best wishes to the man and speedy recovery.

On to a topic of less gravity, a thing happened to me over the weekend of some true bother. It was Halloween night and I had a strange feeling on the end of my left index finger. It was like a small burn though I had done no cooking. On my way to work it got no more pronounced but its persistence caused me to look more closely at the wound. On the end of my finger I could see a brown dot that looked like a splinter of wood had gone into my skin. I pressed at the injury until I had worked it free. What looked like a clear thorn with a brown end came out of my flesh. I think it was from an artichoke.

After removing this barb the pain became negligible for the space of two hours until it came back with more venom. I looked at my finger again to see a white spot to replace the brown. It was bigger and protruded from my skin like a callus or corn. I pressed this as I had pressed its predecessor, and from the spot came a bit of ivory white fluid. I milled the wound on and off for the night but found no more in it but clear blood plasma.

Sleep that morning had been the normal wrestles sort, but I had gotten something in the way of rest. On awaking I found the white spot again, but even with the new throbbing pain I could get nothing from the wound. With this new manifestation I found typing hard. The inflammation pulsed in my flesh making it my most dominant feeling. Eventually I sterilized a tack and punctured the wound.

This new hole in my flesh let free a spangle of red and white. I found no surprise in this, but the inflammation, likewise, found no exit in the hole and stayed with me for some days. Typing was still a pain. When the inflammation finally subsided I was left with a smart, deep hole in my finger. It should disappear soon even if it is annoying.

Well, not much to talk about really, but I think it's better to send letters regularly then whenever something important happens. Then I suppose I could have said this over the phone, but our time in that regard gets shorter and shorter it seems. The small moments of your lives tick away with regularity, and the odd events swim by us like little fish in a river. Our nature is as intangible as a breath in this sad world, and as we move to hold the seconds close we only seem to crush them.

So what is left to do? A moderation, a dichotomy, a splitting of our thoughts between holding dear the moment and passing the time? Can we cherish the present and plan for the future? Can we live for the moment and still be prepared for the next thing to come? Is the past a burn to heal or a lesson to live by? These are the questions that pop into my mind tonight. I wish I could lay down my troubled head and sleep away the worry, but the day demands action. Warily I lumber to meet it with the gloom of my thoughts like a led crown on my head.

Stay safe

Richard Leland Neal