When Always Grows Tired


These are my brother’s hands holding on to a maple leaf with tar spots.

If anyone else out there in Michigan has noticed this happening to the trees, please tell me. I pointed the disease out to my brother as it is alarming to look at, and we are worried about the maples that surround our home. They never used to have these spots.


The general state of things can be hard to ignore. My family is separately living out of a different room… my mother, in my room, with her own bed. My father, in the living room because he needs a chair and machine that breathes for him at night. My brother, in the dark bedroom belonging to my parents, which is filled with their belongings. They are home, in their spaces, but it’s as if they do not have their own…place.


I look at the way nature is growing over the things that have always been there. I see new clutter from dead grandparents and garage sales, and it feels like an invasion. Sometimes the items have their own appeal and sometimes the corners are piled with too much randomness to be attractive. It’s as if it cannot be helped, or controlled.



You probably don’t know about the trailers on our land.


My old bedroom closet door is now blocking the outside stairway when my dogs visit. It looks like Chris found some Dodge decals at one point. I’m not sure why the door was ever torn off, but I think it was because of the mirror on the other side.

Our stories are everywhere. Stability is giving way. Sometimes it is all very difficult to see.


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