Driven to distraction, sawn wood sawdust in my hair and on my sweaty skin, I wipe it off and polish my surfaces. The wood smells sweet with the scent of summer rain, I see damask roses on sky blue cloth and a Corona bottle with lime geranium, scented.
What a weekend, can I believe it? I danced my heart out, the woodshed is filled, the pantry is filled, we are storing for winter, hugs and love and laughter too.
My mother's beautiful clever hands sewed me a blue skirt with ten full yards around the bottom hem. It roars the wind when I spin. And a fitted top to match, which I'll trim with blue and white and silver beads.
My father and I had one of those conversations while drinking beer, of dealing with the past, making amends, settling scores; it was not between us, but we were commiserating. He told me of his high school sweetheart and unrequited love, thinks of her as his old flame. He was 19 and had been dating her for 2 years and one weekend asked her to a movie. When she said she was heading out of town with her mom, he invited his dad to the movie. He and his dad sat right behind her... and another guy. He said he doesn't recall the movie at all but he is still keenly aware of that sense of betrayal. Which reminded me.
I once met my namesake, a beautiful big blond woman with a wide open face and heart, and because I was so perturbed because I had just that afternoon learned about my asshole of a boyfriend cheating on me, I don't recall the lunch or the meeting as well as I'd like. Yes, yes I do have resentment. I recall only that feeling of distance, like at the bottom of a well, and feeling trapped in that hollow ache, fighting the tears while trying to smile and laugh. It was all I could do. Facade. I became very good at acting. Very, very good. But I have fallen out of habit and haven't felt the need for artifice in years.
Ever start writing something you didn't mean to write? It's like it happens without intent, it's like emotions bottled up spurting from a tiny pinprick hole in a water balloon.
It feels like it's been a while, a while whiled away, wild a way...
Last night I had a dance rehearsal with the Middle Eastern band that will be playing Friday. I received some very flattering compliments on my form and execution that made me flush even more than the dancing did. I'm very excited about the performance and hope to finish the costume my amazing mother helped design and make. All that remains is the last bit, probably 10 more hours of sewing. Then the beading and hooks and trim, which will take as much time as I can give it until it looks balanced and artful and, well, done.
My folks are driving their long road home right now. I hope their travels are fast and safe. My husband called to tell me that my dad gave him some money and told him to take me out for dinner.
I want to walk in the rain by the riverside and listen to the sound of water and water. The trees are turning already this year. It is snowing in the mountains. It can't be autumn yet.
What a weekend, can I believe it? I danced my heart out, the woodshed is filled, the pantry is filled, we are storing for winter, hugs and love and laughter too.
My mother's beautiful clever hands sewed me a blue skirt with ten full yards around the bottom hem. It roars the wind when I spin. And a fitted top to match, which I'll trim with blue and white and silver beads.
My father and I had one of those conversations while drinking beer, of dealing with the past, making amends, settling scores; it was not between us, but we were commiserating. He told me of his high school sweetheart and unrequited love, thinks of her as his old flame. He was 19 and had been dating her for 2 years and one weekend asked her to a movie. When she said she was heading out of town with her mom, he invited his dad to the movie. He and his dad sat right behind her... and another guy. He said he doesn't recall the movie at all but he is still keenly aware of that sense of betrayal. Which reminded me.
I once met my namesake, a beautiful big blond woman with a wide open face and heart, and because I was so perturbed because I had just that afternoon learned about my asshole of a boyfriend cheating on me, I don't recall the lunch or the meeting as well as I'd like. Yes, yes I do have resentment. I recall only that feeling of distance, like at the bottom of a well, and feeling trapped in that hollow ache, fighting the tears while trying to smile and laugh. It was all I could do. Facade. I became very good at acting. Very, very good. But I have fallen out of habit and haven't felt the need for artifice in years.
Ever start writing something you didn't mean to write? It's like it happens without intent, it's like emotions bottled up spurting from a tiny pinprick hole in a water balloon.
It feels like it's been a while, a while whiled away, wild a way...
Last night I had a dance rehearsal with the Middle Eastern band that will be playing Friday. I received some very flattering compliments on my form and execution that made me flush even more than the dancing did. I'm very excited about the performance and hope to finish the costume my amazing mother helped design and make. All that remains is the last bit, probably 10 more hours of sewing. Then the beading and hooks and trim, which will take as much time as I can give it until it looks balanced and artful and, well, done.
My folks are driving their long road home right now. I hope their travels are fast and safe. My husband called to tell me that my dad gave him some money and told him to take me out for dinner.
I want to walk in the rain by the riverside and listen to the sound of water and water. The trees are turning already this year. It is snowing in the mountains. It can't be autumn yet.
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