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| Nick Zenthoefer journal sketch 1 |
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| Nick Zenthoefer journal sketch 2 |
Listening to Zhao Lei, sorting boxes of paper remains from previous iterations of our household. We moved in to the current household as a family of eight, twenty years ago. Five years ago or more the eldest three nextgen moved out, for love and relocation, and the younger three nextgen all moved out in recent weeks, to share housing with other family members. My husband Nick and i separated long before these developments, and he passed away at the age of 62. He'd be 70 this year.
In the sorting i came across some of his journals, one a diabetes diary that simply lists numbers every single day of the year, his blood sugar levels and insulin amounts, as reflected in my long poem "A Perforated Man." The other two were journal sketch books. In one i came across the words, "dreamt i was pissing tadpoles, rainbow colored." The occasion i remember very well, we'd gone on a reunion trip down the coast and came back pregnant. The above sketches, created in the days following the realization and the dream, express and celebrate the wholesome joy of moving into a new stage of life.
