Everywhere I turn I keep running into Philip Larkin's...They f*** you up, your mum and dad, they may not mean to but they do...they fill you with the faults they had and add some extra just for you.
There are days when I think the entire world is haunting me. I have just finished reading a novel by a favourite author and found, page after page, coincidence, resonance, synchronicity, confluence and whatever else means striking similarity to my life, opinions, thoughts, expressions, partialities and so on.
There are days, too, when I am chatting with whomever about whatever, and seconds later, when I tune into my email page, I find the exact same topic in my spam box: diabetic children; radio tuning; cat hair removal; the benefits of cinnamon; box spring mattresses; cuticle remover. It's bizarre.
It isn't enough that the television has been talking to our family for decades, but it seems now that the universe is following me wherever I go.
Mind you, wouldn't that be lovely -- people from beyond our sphere contacting us in the way Houdini promised his wife he would (and, as far as I know, never did)? Imagine, for example, if every time you made a cup of tea, the sugar bowl magically appeared at your elbow, or each time you ran out of toilet paper while you were sitting in the bathroom -- eureka! -- a roll would appear at your side. (I have enough side rolls to keep me in a lifetime's worth of tissue, but that's another [sadder] story.)
Anyway, it's the poem these days. The Larkin one. It seems to be shadowing me, but I am not sure, apart from the obvious, what it is trying to tell me:
Forgive myself?
Apples and trees are seldom parted (and here, my dear, is where we started)?
Look inward, angel?
Don't forget to laugh?
I don't mean to be glib during these cloudier days, but occasionally I have to shift my umbrella sideways in order to see the sky and catch the full meaning of the ideas that follow me about. They are forever trying to teach me something, and I am afraid if I forget to pay attention I will not be able to do and give full service to this life of mine and ours.
As for Philip Larkin, I know all about the inevitable familial chain. But there are good things too that we take and we pass along, and maybe the most relevant part of this particular haunting are the words they may not mean to, but they do.
In the meantime, I'll keep checking over my shoulder. Should I come up with a more reasonable explanation, I'll let you know.
