I have to stop waking up early remembering how old I am. That never used to happen when I was immortal. I went to bed at 9:00 p.m. last night, awoke just now at 2:00 a.m. and read some news. It’s like the country crossed a line, and no one even twitched.
Meanwhile in New Mexico, the air is turning cool. The mother of all winters could be bearing down on us before Thanksgiving, judging from el Niño in the far Pacific. The road will be impassable for days from snow and mud—a given, not a threat. It’s time to find a better place to live and kill the storage unit. If I could, I’d cut back even more and travel light. Books, possessions, dusty piles of junk in every corner. Projects, obligations, things that will not ease. Scraps of paper with essential numbers by my desk, provenance forgotten.