Thursday, December 4, 2014

the Como in me



Here. Here is a cup of coffee. You remember that. Right?

And music. Yes, coffee and music and the night when the phone doesn't ring and there's time to think.

I think this is the last photo from Moon Hollow Farms in Como. Karen, proprietor/writer/friend/farmer/chicken lover/gal who can't answer the phone 'cause she's zip lining over a crocodile swamp, would most likely hate the photos I took of the place. I know what she wants, what she sees when she considers all the work and love and insanity she has put into the place. She sees light flooding through the windows.

Still.

She would give me a reprieve. She knows the sun was already down by the time I got there and within thirty minutes I had to leave.

The place still isn't completely ready to start accepting guests though I think with only a little urging I could've curled up in the corner for the night or called my dear, dear friend Kay and been able to open the door to one of my favorite spots ever. If you've read this blog for any significant amount of time you know I believe that everyone needs a week alone in the Como Courtyard at least once in their life. Soon people will need to take a second week at Moon Hollow Farms.

Especially at night.

As much as Karen sees Como during the day when poets walk the streets and inspiration can come from everyone you meet I still see Como at night when you save up for the best steak and maybe if you're super lucky there's a band you remember playing at the Chicago style pizza joint.

My favorite part of the place, what I'll always remember and why I'll always return, is the stillness I found after the town settles. Even now I still carry that part of Como in me.


So I guess what I'm saying is don't go to Como because there is a risk of possession.
It will own at least a part of you even after you leave.


Today I am grateful for a little town and it's people in North Mississippi.


4 comments:

Anonymous said...

This is so true. I loved Dr.Shaheen,he was the doctor there for years. I still miss going there. There is a part of Como in me too.

Chantel said...

The ice etched lace upon my kitchen window last night, I awoke to a double sock morning and stood looking out over the frosted trees as I sipped coffee and the boys rumbled about. I already miss the sun. Your reminders of a warmer world, of relaxation and bare feet and music infused nights will keep my hope kindled for spring, my friend. Cheers...

Anonymous said...

Like the music, better than Marcy Playground I do believe.

Shea Goff said...

Dr. Shaheen is a legend, Anonymous. I smiled when I saw his name.

So glad I could offer some hope, Chantel. It's always a pleasure reading what you write.

I think so too, Anonymous.