There I Was in 2021, There I Appeared in 1921

While walking along the fiction section at Barnes and Noble, I came across The House at Riverton, a book by a familiar author, Kate Morton, which I purchased then and am reading now. It was the book I thought beforehand I should find myself within before I knew what this one of hers was about: I was looking for a novel set in England or the United States sometime during the early 1900s ‘til the 1920s. Kate Morton has been a favorite novelist of mine of our current time along with Neil Gaiman whose book, Neverwhere is a novel that’s upcoming in my mind as fiction that I’d like to read.


I don’t know much about celebrities and most of the news, but at night I know the sign and phase of the moon; I will sit in the dark and pray to God, folding into yoga relaxation; sometimes, I will pray the rosary, may see a flush of red in the cup of wine and the face of Jesus at the wedding at Cana.

In the morning, I will drink tea from a porcelain cup and sometimes saucer; I naturally wake early with the sun and appreciate its rising. I will write letters by hand and read books made of paper; I find satisfaction in folding a plain paper bookmark of my own and they may be solid white or black. I like to see the natural placements of semi-colons; they don’t need to phase out with a new century. I will talk to a person of my choice even if they aren’t there. I am happily antique.

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