seeing to it

Back in the Mitten for the weekend, I am thinking a lot about the Farm and how I still think of it as home; going back through my old pictures reminded me of what I was doing at the Farm this time last year.  Today marks one year since a tree fell on my little cabin in the woods. A year ago I came home to utter chaos, and yet, I had many reminders that day of the many forms friendship can come in.

Thinking of and missing my Farm and my Farmers today, this little slice of Uncle Walt felt appropriate:

"To a Stranger"

Passing stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you,

You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me as of a dream,)

I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,

All is recall'd as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,

You grew up with me, were a boy with me or a girl with me,

I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine only,

You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass, you take of my beard, breast, hands, in return,

I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone,

I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again,

I am to see to it that I do not lose you. 

--Walt Whitman