Hello, Good-Bye, Do I Need A Bra?

Well.
I think I've hit a wall with emotions. I think I've hit a wall with a lot of things. But definitely emotions.
Jessie just pulled out of the driveway, her car packed to the gills. She's off to North Carolina today, will be with her sweet boy in their new house tonight. And tomorrow Mr. Moon and I will be taking the truck up with a trailer behind us to haul beds and a rose plant and I have no idea what all. We'll be looking like the Beverly Hillbillies.

My brother Russell is coming this afternoon so he can visit while my brother White is here, visiting with Mom. They've been going around to assisted living places, checking them out, trying to figure out what Mom's next step in living arrangements will be. She doesn't want to leave her furniture. Her dad's this, her grandmother's that. I think she is focusing on those things and I don't blame her. Maybe she can get in-home care. We'll see. The idea of having someone cook for her is spectacularly appealing right now. She's tired of cooking. I don't blame her.
But of course, we'll be gone while Russell is here.
I'm just giving the fuck up on trying to make anything perfect. Hell, I'm giving the fuck up on trying to make anything anything.
I'm at the point where I just want to ask when to show up and where and do I need a bra? That's about all I'm capable of.

Hank came out for Mother's Day and Jessie was here. Lily had to work, May did too. But it was all good. Hank gave me one of his writing pieces that tore my heart right in two. It was so damn beautiful, what he said. It made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I've done okay. At least a little. Jessie gave me Paul Simon's new CD. Papa gave me a huge bottle of gin that I put a serious dent in. And a card. And a magnolia blossom. And a bromeliad. The traditional Mother's Day Bromeliad and bottle of gin. Does the man know me or what?
And he built new trellis for the beans with bamboo and fencing. He's like the perfect man or something. I swear.



I made pizzas and Kathleen brought over pasta salad and some of her Zen cookies. They're called Zen cookies because they have everything in them. All-in-one, all-is-one.
Jessie took a bunch for the road and pizza too.

By nine o'clock I was ready for bed. By ten-thirty, I was asleep.

Sleep is one thing I can still do quite well. I am capable of good sleep. I can still cook and sleep. Yes. Those are things I can do.

And take care of my grandson. He'll be here soon, soon, and boy is he going to get some loving today.

Otherwise, just tell me when and where to show up. And if I need to wear a bra.

Sorry for this disjointed piece of crap writing. It's not even writing. It's spitting my thoughts out in a completely random fashion.

Consider the source. Consider that she's hit an emotional wall. Consider that maybe she's crying a little bit. Consider that all things considered, she's doing okay.

Consider that. And that she feels like a woman who has done her job and still has work to do. Which makes her very happy.

On to laundry. Which I can still also do.

We shall survive. Mr. Moon and I keep hugging each other, knowing that here we are. We are here. Together. And we're holding on and we're hanging in and here we go- off to North Carolina tomorrow and off on this new part of our lives.

It's something. That wall will be busted through. The one that I've hit. I'll pull up my big-girl panties, put on a bra, and fly right through it. Or over it. Or maybe I'll just creep around it on hands and knees.

Whatever.

Good morning. It's Monday. Let us begin again.