The Death of Imagination

Several times today I found myself glancing over at monshu--my head dizzy and throbbing, him sneezing and sniffling--and let out a dry chuckle. How crazy are we, having houseguests when both of us are sick? I gave him several opportunities to cancel, but not only did he insist on going through with dinner, he insisting on cooking it all himself despite agreeing last night to simply order in.

He led with his standby for Asian-themed meals, Martin Yan's chili bean sauce salmon, accompanying it rather incongruously with cheese tortellini in sage butter and zucchini with lemon thyme. For dessert, however, he went full-on traditional with mixed nut, bean paste, and winter melon mooncakes, longans, and pomelo. At this course we were joined by the Madison bears, who gamely tried everything. (Rather foolhardy of one of them, I thought, who has a cinnamon allergy. I guess we'll find out once and for all whether he reacts to cassia as well.)

They hit it off well with Turtle and her wife, as I would've predicted, and it wasn't long before I realised nearly an hour had gone by without a significant contribution to the conversation from the Old Man's corner. I glanced as his dropping face and wondered how I could tactfully clear the room, given that our guests were already self-conscious about imposing on us in our compromised state. At last Big-Dicked Bottom Bear reminded his hubby that they had Game Night to go to.

Hubby was disappointed I wasn't coming, but I was well beyond making a choice like that to please someone. Although I forwent the salmon, I knew I'd eaten too much mooncake and was going to have difficult getting a good night's sleep--even assuming I don't wake up again at 3 a.m. suffering another bout of overwhelming nausea. Besides, they're spending the night here, so there's ever a chance I may be well enough to socialise some tomorrow morning.

It was a marvelously clear evening, so I'm sure the moonrise was quite something. By the time it hove into view from the top our our porch, it was pearl white and glorious to see. By the time they set out to walk home in its light, I was almost accustomed to Turtle Wife's new face, narrowed considerably as a result of her gastric bypass surgery. During the meal, I had to constantly remind myself that it was a positive health change which had left it looking so much more gaunt and lined than when last I saw it.

I couldn't squelch a certain disappointment last night at reaching the shoreline and finding the moon already up. Conditions were so perfect it's hard to imagine the moonrise was anything less than spectacular. Even fifteen or so minutes after clearing the horizon (in my estimation), it still had a pronounced ochre cast. But there was nothing to regret about having made the effort to get out of the house on a such a night. Without the stiff breeze blowing from the south, it might've been too hot for a comfortable stroll, but as it was it was invigourating, a true bit of high summer back for a visit in mid-September.

I watched from the railing for a bit, and when I turned around to take in the sunset colours against the clouds to the west, that's when I noticed the swarm of dragonflies. Must've been fifty of them darting above the gardens in front of Piper Hall. I was tempted to stay, but where there are so many active culicivores, there must be an truly terrifying populations of mosquitoes and I didn't fancy becoming their feast. The circular bench in front of Madonna della Strada was occupied by elderly Chinese who must've had the same purpose as me, although I didn't see a mooncake or a glass of wine between them.

Buoyed, I marched steadily northward, pausing occasionally to turn toward the southeast and take in the moonlight glinting across the waves. But as I approached Loyola Ave, I felt something else. A familiar melancholy was swelling within me, and by the time I reached Hartigan Beach, it had grown to where I only wanted to go home again. The beach was lively, but the road leading to it was empty and--once away from both Sheridan Road and the El tracks--quiet.

I was surprised to find the back door open and the storm door unlocked when I got home. I thought I'd made it clear to monshu where I was going. I was even more surprised to find him up and working at the computer; I thought he'd gone to bed an hour earlier. He told me he was coming outside for a cigarette, so I sliced up the mixed nut mooncake from Feida and poured two winecups of daughter-in-law wine.

Unfortunately, the wine had turned (something I didn't know could happen to Chinese liquor), so I made an offering to the earth and refilled the cups with Korean chrysanthemum wine and we toasted Chang'e. I contrasted my visit to the shore with our attempt to view the moonrise last year, sitting on a bench on Pratt Beach with my broken foot in a tremendous boot and cursing the haze that hid her from our view. Just before he turned in, the moon cleared the trees on Greenview and we were able to admire it together.