The Time Of Year When Winter And Spring Come Together In Lloyd

The Time Of Year When Winter And Spring Come Together In Lloyd

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

You May

When your mother dies it would appear that you have dreams and dreams and more dreams and not all of them to do at all with your mother or at least not that you can figure out and boy, I really did like that tiny trailer I was living in in dreamworld last night with its Indian-print bedspreads and potted plants everywhere. Did not, however, like it when Gibson needed heart surgery, no, I did not. And when I'm not dreaming, I'm awake, wishing I was back asleep, even with the dreams. I am the Ghost of the House, wandering about in Jessie's old bathrobe, the Michelin Woman enveloped in marshmallow, not even the dogs pay me any mind anymore.

Woke to thick spits of rain off roof, dense gray sky and late. Have to get back to town to babysit that boy who does NOT need heart surgery, no, so that his mama can take his brother to the dentist. Wake up, wake up, brush hair, dress. Eat? I ate two crackers at three-thirty a.m. Reading a book that you'd have to pull my toenails out to admit to- it's that bad but it's almost funny and boy, do I need funny right now, you better believe it. Coffee, what would I do without it? Elvis crowing and he's ready to start his day. There have been two hawks in the yard, swooping and crying and he is constantly on alert, protecting his tiny flock. He is one of the finest men I've ever met, judged by any standard.

When your mother dies life goes on and you may miss her more than you can believe or you can drive past the road where she lived and breathe a sigh of relief and it doesn't matter, the world (your world, at least) has been changed but maybe far less than you would have imagined. Still, though, the very atoms of the situation are different and you may find yourself dreaming of hippie print bedspreads in a tiny trailer, you may find yourself lying in bed thinking, "I'm next, I'm next, I'm next," you may have to hand out death certificates like bubblegum, you may have to water the plants but not, I am here to remind you, if it rains. You may lie in bed and remember this and remember that and your mind may be trying to once again plow the dry furrow of it all and try to make something good, something green, at last grow there and if so, you may be glad when you finally get up to find that there has been rain.

14 comments:

Vesuvius At Home said...

This is simply gorgeous, although I'm sorry for the state that has brought it about.

I think you will see the other side of this ghost season, if you just let it be.

I'd like to be in that trailer with the Indian print sheets. It sounds nice.

Petit fleur said...

Have a good day with those boys.
xo

Jo said...

Ohh, I thought I was next too, and I was twenty-six. Oh yes. The pull of death is so strong, it really sucks you into its orbit, makes you sure it's waiting for you. It passes. It does.

Mel said...

Oh, what Jo said. I'm sorry about those dreams. It's cruel to have them. I fought off a vicious dog in my dreams last night. Why? There is no why with this strange brain.
I'm hoping you have a great day with your boys and the rains clear up to sunny skies. And Elvis is a fine rooster, he really is.

Jill said...

Beautiful!

Good morning/now it is afternoon!

Syd said...

I still have dreams of dead relatives. Except in the dreams, they are alive. What is it that haunts me and won't let them go? I wish that their spirit would leave me but they still find me at times in dreams. I understand your feelings.

RachelVB said...

I think the days after life is so dramatically changed are the strangest days of them all. Everything is so foggy still.
Hang in Ms. Moon. Love on your boys today. xo

Elizabeth said...

A trailer with Indian print sheets sounds good. And your writing here was glorious.

Angella said...

So gorgeously written, but i think, dear mary, the heart surgery in your dream is what you are undergoing right now. Sweet Gibson was just a stand in, facilitating the arrival of your something green.

Denise Emanuel Clemen said...

Yes. Plow. With a mule if you have to. There will be flowers.

mrs.missalaineus said...

the worst my ocd became over food was after my grandma passed- i became irrationally afraid of choking and would only eat soft foods.

thinking of you

xxalainaxx

Ms. Moon said...

Ms. Vesuvius- That trailer was awesome. Spacious, too.
I hope you're right about this ghost dance.

Ms. Fleur- My few hours with Gibson were lovely.

Jo- That isn't my biggest worry/fear but it's just one of the many which drift by and shed their barbed wire on me.

Mel- Thank you and mostly for recognizing Elvis.

Jill- And now it is evening. Time flies, doesn't it?

Syd- I have not yet dreamed of my mother, dead or alive. This suits me just fine. But my other dead ones- they do come back and yes, they are all still alive and it is haunting.

Rachel- Foggy. Yes. Exactly.

Elizabeth- Heart-root-writing, I guess.

Angella- I kept telling everyone he was fine. Such a sturdy, healthy fellow. So maybe I am fine too. I will buy that explanation.

Denise- Promise? Thank you. So much.

Mrs. A- It is crazy-wackadoodle-making for sure, isn't it? Lord, Lord.

Food and Brew Love said...

Yes....

heartinhand said...

Between perimenopause and losing my mom, I don't know who thinks about death more than I do. It's a daily thing. I need to change that.