"I thought you were knocking to say you needed me."

No, it's the workers hammering after gutting the old neighbor's townhouse.

When his mother couldn't pay anymore, his brother-in-law evicted him. A dumpster turned up on the driveway: "it's so trashed in there everything has to be thrown away."

Once he knocked on another neighbor's door asking for $5. "If he shows up at your place, don't open the door." He left my brother doughnuts that we threw away. When he asked about them the next day, we said "they were great. Thank you."

I don't know where he went, so I don't know if this is a thoroughly sad story. I know it probably is. It has something to do with needing, with knowing who you can expect help from, with boundaries (both wanted and unwanted), with being able to stomach the knowledge that someone's gone away and you can keep living without knowing where they've gone.

. . .

I found out tonight that I'll be teaching freshman composition next semester.

I've been so inspired by my writing teachers; it's exciting to be in a position where I can work with students on their writing now.

(I get to teach writing! This keeps popping into my head and I get excited all over again. )

. . .

I'm unsure how to arrange odds and ends here, but I want this to be a place for them. Strange, the things that preoccupy us at the same time-- the divergent thoughts that make us up at any given moment.