Forest Knolls Lodge, up the road from Cathleen’s house
in Lagunitas, was a bar run by a husband and wife,
Tony and Laurie, with whom I had been great friends
when I lived in the Bay Area before and roamed
the countryside as well as the city, perfect environment
for one unable to choose between them. Why else
would I need to escape from New Orleans from time
to time, drive upriver or wander to the bayous . . .
Now that I was living in Marin again, and in a house now!
I swam in Bonne Chance! along with the young ones
who went naked, so I felt free to follow suit, and did.
Cathleen came out when I drove across the Golden Gate
to get her, and I can tell you there was much to be done
in too little time . . . The Lodge was fine for eating
sandwiches, but a general store with a kitchen was best,
just a mile farther down the road where we ate steaks.
Mostly though I was alone, and went back to Adore’s
story. All that you’ve read about her to this point
was what she told me, or what we lived, set where
and as it had been lived. Yet something was missing:
it didn’t matter I was part of her life . . . what counted
was how she got to be the woman my grand uncle married.
As had been my wont much of my life, I kept to the house
and wrote. And what I wrote was what I could not know.
(24 April 2011)
copyright 2011 by Floyce Alexander