Dear Darling Ones,

I woke up this morning with Simon & Garfunkel’s “Homeward Bound” stuck in my head. Every stop neatly planned for a poet and a one man band.

Over and over in my head while I strapped on my lymphedema garments (which I hate with the fiery passion of 8000 suns), when I doled out morning pets to los gatitos, and as I made breakfast.

This is surprising because I’ve spent the last week or so listening to Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon” on repeat. And, I had just woken from a dream where Jason Isbell was playing Wolfdogg’s daughter’s wedding (which happened two? year ago).

When I turned on the music today I obviously went to Simon & Garfunkel. The fact that they’re one of my favorite bands has always creeped my mom out because they were also the favorite band of the biological father I never met.

Anyway, I was just minding my own business when the song “I am a Rock” came on and I burst out laughing.

I don’t know what kind of seventeen-year-old kid you were, but I was the kind who related entirely too much to this song. It was 1989 and I truly believed I have my books, and my poetry to protect me. I was determined to be a rock, an island.

To be fair, I was deep down it. A 6’3″ nerdy, never-been-kissed girl whose family had just moved to Wisconsin. I was going through some stuff.

But still. . .

I remember scrawling the lyrics to this song in my journal, a blue Mead notebook I’d doodled peace signs all over.

Not sure how I reacted to the “island never cries” bit. I cried all the damn time. I still do. I was probably crying while I wrote that lyric down on the lined paper in purple pen.

For the record, I am not crying as I type this.

Today my melodramatic melancholy struck me as funny. It seems like just another case of you always were who you were gonna be, you know?

Love from my fortress deep & mighty,
Jodi