Thursday, October 9, 2008
Sometimes When I Have The Most To Say It's The Hardest Thing In The World To Say It
It's a perfect fall day with the all the trees fresh-washed from the beautiful rain we got yesterday and last night. The sun itself seems happier, more kindly disposed to its task of lighting and warming and less inclined to burn us all up with its hot poisonous super-beams, making their way through our reduced ozone layer.
No, plenty of sweet air for us today here in North Florida and I picked a bouquet of wildflowers and berries on my walk and left the trash for tomorrow.
(Financial note: buy stock in Steel Reserve Malt Liquor.)
Everywhere I go outside I see tiny, tiny froglettes, the fruit of the spawning orgy that occurred during Tropical Storm Fay's amazing rains. They are smaller than bugs, these baby frogs, and the birds are happily dining on as many as they can scoop up. When I was sweeping the kitchen the other day, a dust ball quite shockingly became animated, hopping itself across the floor. I realized it contained a small frog and swept him gently outside to the back steps where he disappeared into the border grass.
They are not a pestilence, these frogs. Not only do they make the birds happy, the ones that grow up will eat mosquitoes and I am all for that.
Mr. Moon has taken off for four days of fishing with men and I sent him on his way with a huge batch of chili, a loaf of bread and several dozen chocolate chip and pecan cookies. Also, all my love and best wishes.
The man needs to get away and get out on the water and hang out with other uncomplicated men to fish and pee over the side of the boat and drink beer and grill steaks and do whatever it is that men do on fishing trips.
Bless his heart, he deserves to get away from a wife who's been so crazy she doesn't even recognize herself, who cries at the drop of a hat and who has turned in on herself like one of the roly-poly bugs the kids used to play with in the dry summer dirt. Honestly, I'm not sure how he's tolerated me the last few months and it's the least I can do to send him off with a smile and just hope he thinks of me fondly while he's gone and doesn't decide to abandon me to my despair and insanity. I don't think he will, but hopefully if he does have thoughts like that, the cookies will remind him that I do have my uses.
I'm not quite sure how I'll do, being alone for four days. Even six months ago just the prospect of that would have sent me into shivers of anticipation but since the black beast has come upon me, being alone is not always the best thing for me although, contrary-wise, at the same time it has become almost impossible for me to be around folks, even the ones I love, for very long. Except for Mr. Moon. After almost twenty-four years of marriage, being around him is my comfort and my joy and I can be quiet if I want or talk if I want and just having him there beside me at the supper table or in the bed makes me feel safe and more stable.
But I will gladly give that up for a few days to let him take his Viking-blooded self out to the water where he is happiest, to renew his spirit and restore his soul.
We all have something that washes us clean of our worries and our cares, just as the rain washes this dusty old planet with its cool, clean waters. Something that heals us, something bigger than ourselves and more important.
For Mr. Moon, that's fishing.
For me, right now, it's Mr. Moon.
But I feel okay.
I have a pile of good library books, an embroidery project I'm working on, a short story I want to get back to writing and four dogs. I also have plants to trim and plants to root, friends and kids that might come out, and this blog. If, out of self-therapy, I write about four posts a day, please be understanding.
There's just so much going on in my life to write about- dust balls that hop, teen-aged cardinals fighting at the feeder, how I feel from one moment to the next, and of course there's always the weather.
No end to the topics I could discuss.
And send Mr. Moon some good fishing vibes. I hear the grouper and snapper are biting and it sure would make him happy to catch some.
Which in turn, will make me happy and all will be good. And all will be well. And all will be as it should- warm sun, cool breezes, sane woman, tiny frogs, and the prospect of saner, sweeter days ahead.