No other word will do. For that's what it was. Gravy.
Gravy these past ten years.
Alive, sober, working, loving and
being loved by a good woman. Eleven years
ago he was told he had six months to live
at the rate he was going. And he was going
nowhere but down. So he changed his ways
somehow. He quit drinking! And the rest?
After that it was all gravy, every minute
of it, up to and including when he was told about,
well, some things that where breaking down and
building up inside his head. "Don't weep for me,"
he said to his friends. "I'm a lucky man.
I've had ten years longer than I or anyone
expected. Pure gravy. And don't forget it."
Raymond Carver (1938-1988)
Den dikten går rakt in i hjärtat och jag saknar ord...
SvarSlettDette likte jeg. Veldig godt.
SvarSlettLiker bloggen din også (fant den akkurat nå). En skikkelig maskulin bokblogg har jeg ikke sett mange av her på verdensveven. Ser frem til å lese mer.
Gunhild: Hyggelig at du fant fram til meg. "En skikkelig maskulin bokblogg", tar jeg som en kompliment.
SvarSlett