The last few weeks...

This has been such a fine few weeks.

I will overlook the illness. It isn't worth talking about.

But, yes, the last month or so has been one to savor, to sip slowly, enjoying every ounce.

I guess it started after Christmas, when I left Knoxville at 4 a.m. on a Saturday, headed for the Macon (well, actually the Bibb) County line. Dewayne was Dewayne. (Or should I say, DEWAYNE!) Jacob crawled in my lap, book outstretched, wanting me to read to him. Bridget let me borrow a wonderful little novel, Garrison Keillor's "Love Me," tailor-made for my temperament. Oh, it was sublime.

One night, we went to eat pizza, enjoying Coors and conversation, Otis Redding playing on the jukebox. I didn't want to go home.

The month was tinged with sadness, too. My pal Paul Wyatt died. So did John Updike. I lost myself awhile in the screams.

Facebook has been fun. New friends, old friends; literary talk and rambling about nothing; looking in on the lives of others.

I have read some wonderful prose, admired some beautiful women, seen some good movies, brooded in some solitude, gathering strength from it all. My joy comes from others, performing for them, writing to them, making them laugh.

How I long for springtime, for rejuvenation, for baseball, for days when I don't feel bad. I miss listening to Robinella, hearing her mourning dove's sweet sad songs, can't wait for the Sunday I feel up to returning to my corner stool.

I think about Bob Dylan, remember a line or two, and know it lies waiting around the bend.

Any day now, any day now, I shall be released...