I’m very late in posting this morning, yet I’ve been up since 2:00 a.m. I’ve been reading. And, thinking. Seems I spend an awful lot of time thinking lately, and here’s another odd thought, as I move along from step to step, painfully slowed by research of a sort instead of spouting off from sheer emotion: Will any of it matter if my family script leaves me with Alzheimer’s just when I’m beginning to understand some of the questions, and cuts me short, far short of reaching any glimpse of a conclusion?
I suppose the answer must be a definitive affirmative. For all of it, and none of it, really comes to any conclusion that is conclusive more than transitorily. So the goal then, is not the answer, but the quest.
I’m working on a brief essay on Hurston’s story, and will return with that and some more good thoughts later on.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology