Harbinger?

So I was standing jacket-less outside on the sunny side of my house feeling the sun being friendly when Frada walked up the street, in down coat with furry hood. “Look at the crocuses,” I called, pointing down at tiny courageous yellow flowers on short little stems. “Sign of spring for sure,” she said as I walked out into the street to chat. “I just came outside to get some air and clear my head from working on my blog,” I told her. “What blog? Current affairs?” Then I had to tell her in a few words what I’ve been up to, and that for the last few weeks, I have had nothing to show for my efforts. “I can write about philosophical things all day, but saying something about everyday encounters that doesn’t strike me as banal, much less readers, is awful. “I would think you’d have lots to say.” “I do, until I face the blank page, and then I feel like Tantalus.” She knew immediately what I mean since she’s working on her PhD in classics, Greek in particular. “You mean when you bend down, the water recedes?” :Exactly. It’s just like that.” Some more laughs and then we parted, she to her house across the street, me to my ‘office’ for more torment.

Our street doesn’t have sidewalks but there’s always a lot of foot traffic. People like Frada and her barky dog, boys in twos and threes heading down to McDonald’s, Frada’s dad power-walking, mothers pushing carriages, people with bags of groceries from Baby Nat’s at the bottom of the hill, bikers, speedy cars: there’s always something stumping or swooshing by. Sitting on the porch, I sometimes call out greetings, sometimes wave, but often people are engaged with each other or in their own thoughts. 

How to speak about encounters such as ours this afternoon has been perplexing to me. For the last 3 weeks I’ve tried to create a format for doing so. I want a format that allows me to speak in a voice I like about enjoying the sun, or reading a poem, or watching a movie, or going to a concert, or having an argument, or chatting by phone with someone in the hospital, in short, any kind of conversation whatsoever. It has to be format that honors encounters (pleasant and unpleasant) with real attention but isn’t flat or literal. I’ve experimented with ideas of half-silvered mirrors, with rivers and rains, with banjo picking and harp glissandi, all good, some even useful, but it doesn’t make the page less of a place where I feel more of a fool. Pressing myself now to produce something before another weekend goes by, I find my thoughts, under the thrashing I’ve been giving them, have offered up a clue.

Since I’m an English as a second language teacher, I often deal with that hybrid tense the present perfect, which is neither past nor present but something in between, almost a bridge. It’s a verb tense exquisitely appropriate for conversations. Based as it is on the perception that the present is the product of the past which in turn produces the future, its every assertion is resonant with implication. That’s what I want to say about encounters as such and about my encounters with encounters (reflection): nothing is just what it is, and even Frada and I chatting in the sun represents an encounter that;s more than just a few evanescent words but something vivid, wonderful, thought-provoking (see above) and more. Have I found my format? Maybe. Let’s see. 

Is this anyone's else's problem: finding the right voice?