I think I have had a crying hangover today. Have you ever had one of those? I sobbed so hard last night that my head and eyes have been burning a bit all day long. I guess I was due. Overdue, probably. It was one of those times when you sob up your guts. You go back to birth, probably, and just cry about every damn fucking thing that ever fucked your heart up. Those deep, wrenching sobs that come on like waves, like a tsunami which forms over the deepest part of the ocean and must travel long distances before it dissipates.
It had to be done. And I damn well did it.
And I suppose I feel better today for having done it with the exception of my eyes, my head. And as with any storm, after it's over you clean up the damage and go on.
We go on.
I showed Mr. Moon the tree that fell. We walked out there together and he looked at it and he said something I'm not sure I've ever heard that man say before. "I can't do this," he said. "I'm going to have to hire someone."
That's how big it is, that piece of tree.
He's gone up to Georgia, Mr. Moon has, to his hunting camp to start getting things ready for this fall's hunting season. I married a hunter. This is the way it is. I struggle sometimes, still after all these years, with the amount of time he spends planning for and preparing for and thinking about and actually going hunting. I do. To be honest. But then I have to remember that he probably has no more idea why I spend so much time at this keyboard than I can understand why he spends so much time with his hunting. As I have said, I do not understand why he does it but I understand that he has to. I think he feels the same about me and my writing and my reading. It all boils down to acceptance and respect. That is what I think, although I don't know. I really do not know shit. But I'm alone for the weekend and it's okay. I know that.
Owen got a haircut today. I wasn't there but I have a picture. He looks so different.
He looks like...a boy. This is going to take some getting used to.
Why does everything have to change all the damn time?
Because it does.
Because it does. Trees fall and people die and babies are born and they grow up. Skin loses its grip on bones and bodies widen and faces crumple and you know what? All we can do is accept and face it all with dignity and with grace.
Or at least try to.
I spent an hour this evening watching an interview with Keith Richards at the New York Public Library after his book came out three years ago and it soothed me. Yes, Keith Richards is my spirit totem animal (thank you, Hank, for pointing that out) but he's a mentor for how to grow older and accept what life throws at you without giving up, how to be grace-full. I think I have a pretty good bullshit detector and he doesn't trigger any of those alarms. He is who he is and he doesn't try to pretend otherwise. He even said, during the interview, "bless their hearts," and he was discussing his children. He also talked about Mick Jagger's ass and drugs and his father and fame and he did not say one thing that was not gracious and generous. Not one damn thing.
And his face is his own.
I am cooking an actual serving of green beans from the garden which I picked today along with potatoes we grew too. I have a stack of books from the library and a brand new Vanity Fair. I have spoken to three of my children today and texted with the other. I witnessed the death of a huge portion of a centuries-old oak tree. The sound of the ripping and tearing of it as it passed will be part of me forever. I have done a lot of thinking about my mother and her life and my own life.
I accord this a day worth living. I don't know that I can do much better than that.
Time to put the chickens up.
Good night, y'all.