But Tonight, I Will Read By the Light of My Oak Fire

But tonight, I will read by the light of my oak fire. 

I like to read, even more so now in the aging of my time here on earth.  Up here in the Lodge, I throw three well-seasoned oak logs in the stone fireplace, let them rise to a full fire, then dust the ashes off the hearet, take a sit, pull out my wire-rimmed reading specs and read for awhile.  That's the one blessing I got from those black robed Jesuits - they taught me how to read.

"There is something haunting in the light of the moon ... it has all the dis ... dispassionate .... dispassionateness of a disembodied soul ... and something of its inconceivable mystery."   Damn, this Jospeh Conrad fellow loves to roll out them big-assed words.  But I like this book.  Third time through it.  Bought from a peddler who was passing though Belle River.   It's titled, Lord Jim.  A story about a fellow who took to the sea.  I've never even seen the sea let alone sailed on it.  I had a half-brother who joined up with the Royal Navy.  He went off to fight in some war for some cause.  He never heard from him again.  I found that happens quite often in life, folks go away and never heard from again.

I like to hear the crackling that comes from an oak fire.  They say its the bugs and seeds in the wood that does the crackling.  Here is the Lodge, the fire gives the place a glow like a rusty brass - kind of warm looking, like the last color of sunset in September. 

I look at my hands as they turn the creamy pages of this book and they look like the hands of an old man.  I reckon I am starting to fade.  I still got my hair, but it is more grey than brown these days.  My six foot frame is started to bend a bit, my cold blue eyes I suppose are getting a bit weary in their gaze. 

Funny thing about growing old.  The things that matter to you seem to grow old right along with you.  I swear the timbers and beams in this Lodge are getting old right along with me.  Even those wolves out there, waiting for me to die, to me they look a little greyer with each passing year.

I don't drink as much whiskey as I used to; I just drink it slower and longer.

The End

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