Sometimes I look around and ponder the scene I would leave behind if I died right now, or perhaps, disappeared instantly. I imagine the scene through eyes other than mine, the scene one would come upon when discovering my absence. What would be meaningful? What would be revealing? What would remain unexplained? What would make Chip, or anyone else who knows me, smile, shake his head and think...yep, that's Jen for ya?
What artifacts, what evidence do we leave of our minute to minute existence?
I look around now, right now, and see: the folding metal chair - partially covered with an old sheet to make it feel a little softer - sitting in front of the garage, the strange little gardening tote that turns into a stool positioned as a foot rest, The book, Darwin's Dangerous Idea by Dennett along with my index card of notes and comments, inside - the laundry still going, my summer clothes taken out of storage and piled haphazardly upstairs, winter clothes now optimistically out of sight. In the kitchen the computer is open, gmail up and running like it often is, all my bead stuff out on the table and a necklace half put back together, a glass of wine mostly gone. Evidence of an afternoon spent leisurely, no task fully completed, everything in medias res. The way every good story begins.