I am happy to help with the cleaning up, since all I did was eat, but I don't just feel obligated. I love this participating in the natural rhythm of life here. And I am glad they don't have a dishwasher. It's all done by hand. The old-fashioned way, as Aaron likes to say, who is standing next to me drying the dishes as I wash them. I am feeling normal again, grounded, balanced, or however you want to call it. No one seems very talkative this evening. There is a lot to digest, along with dinner. Dessert is delayed for when we sit in the reception room for more of Cosme's journal. From time to time Aaron comments on the elegance of some of the pieces we are washing and drying together. We are alone in the kitchen, the others have taken a break before the evening gathering. And again I am thinking of what I really should not be thinking about. I do not want to lapse again into a mental health crisis. But I am wanting to talk to Aaron about those two women he knew at church, their conversation about the war. He seems a very kind man, but one who takes no prisoners, who has a very low tolerance threshold for bullshit or dishonesty. Yes, that was why he ran into so many problems at St. James. The Anglican Church is really founded, not on Christ, nor the Gospels, but on bullshit and dishonesty. How else could the likes of Father Griffin, a resident priest and sexual predator, go on undetected for so long before his repentance? And following his change of life, how many of the old guard in the church literally turned against him.
But how could Aaron so deftly live simultaneously in two different dimensions? He could be just bullshitting us. But that is not like Aaron.
"Where are you right now", I ask.
"I'm standing next to you here in the kitchen, drying this beautiful dinner plate. Where are you right now?"
"Standing next to you washing a glass." I pause, then, "And that's it?" I ask.
"Later", he says, while pulling the plug.
"Tomorrow?" I am wiping dry the dish drain.
"Get some rest tonight..."
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