The Perfect Note
Rain, New Year's Eve, by Maggie Smith
The rain is a broken piano, playing the same note over and over.
My five-year-old said that. Already she knows loving the world
means loving the wobbles you can't shim, the creaks you can't
oil silent—the jerry-rigged parts, MacGyvered with twine and chewing gum.
Let me love the cold rain's plinking. Let me love the world the way I love
my young son, not only when he cups my face in his sticky hands,
but when, roughhousing, he accidentally splits my lip.
Let me love the world like a mother. Let me be tender when it lets me down.
Let me listen to the rain's one note and hear a beginner's song.
I was given this verse in another context today. The Isolation Journals with Suleika Jaouad. It strikes the perfect note for this new Substack. It’s the hope I’d love to start you off with:
Life’s not perfect.
Enjoy it.
Start there.
We’ll learn the stuff of living it along the way.
Cat