At some point in a crazed decadent series of days in London we were lounging around a hotel in various states of disrepair. My son was secreted in a closet reading novels while my grown-up daughter had sequestered herself in the living room watching Old Yeller and yelling out descriptions scene by scene.
I was completely overwhelmed by an exquisite moment listening to a Stevie Wonder record as Jeffrey talked about his latest crush. What I felt was an incredibly intense and overbearing sensation of perfection, like watching a white swan gliding down a black river, or the swifts swooping above the Brighton pier, or the hometown dock at midnight when nothing separates you from a swift surrender, a complete sensory and intellectual cessation – just dropping – nothing at all except this sense that the world made sense, for an instant, a moment, forever, or maybe it didn’t, but it was amazing.
Then my daughter pointed out that we were not paying attention to the fact that Old Yeller had a brawl with a bear and Jeffrey hollered back We have bigger problems!
The girl responded I’ll listen to your problems when you’re wearing gingham!and I dissolved in helpless laughter, the hilarity shattering any vague idea of profundity, and that was also perfect.
Later I asked Jeff Why is my life so weird?
He replied You like adventure.
I said True, but not as much as I’ve had recently!
He was quick with the observation You are so used to danger you like to keep it close to you.
I didn’t think before saying Not on purpose! Quite the opposite!
Jeffrey sighed and replied I don’t know, I don’t have an answer… your life may be weird, but it is beautiful.
This is true.
Jeffrey flew away today. I’ll miss him.
