Here in Hollis, late to nap, with the in-laws scattered waiting for Nochebuena. I began that last bit four days back and now am here on the loveseat where once mom fed child as just now I hear touch has a memory touch has a memory, and I remember too much to contain/retain any of it. Memories pass through me with their undercurrent of shared/layered feelings.

O for God’s sake
they are connected
underneath

But how much of these traces make me? All that’s undone before it starts, what becomes of those runnels? Childhood is immense. I know it even as I look from the outside with inchoate hints of remembrance/imagination. Somehow this Found Light still taps something I can’t name, some vein of deep feeling.