Willa Wonta

6.25.23

Moving house here, to another town. Much downsizing, so i am inheriting a few mementoes. Paintbrushes and palette knives that belonged to my father. His wood-grained leather wallet, a few now-useless silver certificates. Photos from the 1950’s, slides through the 80’s. Holding these old things is oddly less than satisfying. Glad to see a painting I did while a student at CCAC, smaller than I remember.

My cousin reiterates a thought I have had–we grew up in the Best Times–the weather, the cars, the Beatles and their wake, All the Bands. Little stores, neighborhoods, fireflies, kids playing outside until the street lights came on. I used to walk my dog at 2 AM. I couldn’t sleep, it was cool and quiet, and I could see in the dark.

I’m ready to hit the road again, but waiting to finish what I started here, to get everyone tucked in and safe before I go.

Half-Christmas it is, as my sister points out, her favorite show pre-empted for bad Disney movies, perhaps hoping to jump-start a crashing retail market. Who needs things, tho? This house full of “collectables”, mostly destined for the thrift store. We are all over-saturated, stores everywhere closing down and derelict. I can take a few things, if they are precious, if I promise to weed my closet ferociously when I get home. Everything I need I already have three of, and no room for more.