Friday, July 12, 2013

What a day. Well, except for the giant oak falling, nothing too dramatic. But still.

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. 

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. Is the rest of the tree sound, or does it all have to come down? The is a big honking tree.

  2. I hate those sobs....they're awful. But I hope in some way they are cleansing. I'm still figuring that all out.

    Owen...yes. It's a boy!

    My newest nephew just turned a month old and I haven't met him yet. I texted his mother yesterday that he needs to slow his roll on the growing -I've got to get up there.

    I love you. Will you help me tomorrow when I text about how to fix squash?

  3. PS -- that last comment of mine pretty much encompasses up every comment I've ever made here ;)

  4. Allison- That's a good question. And to add to the conundrum- it's on the property of the railroad. So hell, I don't even know.

    SJ- Honey. Yes. About the squash. And we both know what's important. Amen.

  5. I'm sorry about the tree and about your tears. We still have a large chunk of tree left to split here. Will get to it in time.

  6. Imagine the firewood that limb will make. Maybe we will burn some of it on Thanksgiving Eve while we eat oysters and play music. Or maybe dad could make a chair or a shelf or something with part of it.

  7. Syd- We deal with the borning and the dying, don't we?

    Mr. Downtown- Shitfire, baby. We could make flooring for an entire house out of this one. I am not kidding you. It's a lot of wood.

  8. I think you've got it exactly right about it boiling down to acceptance and respect. If you haven't got that I don't see how you can last together without some bloodshed.

    Owen does look SO different, yes, very grown up and maybe a little skeptical?
    Sleep tight Ms Moon

  9. Wow. Well, I guess now we know where Mr. Moon draws the line. Downed Oak branches the size of small Redwoods. Good for him for knowing that about himself.

    Yea honey, you sure did need a release of all the sadness you've been witness to and part of and all the stress that goes along with reexamining our pasts. (One of those things that death will practically force upon us) Sorry I have no remedies for the hurty head and eyes. I hope tomorrow the world seems more sparkly.

    Hey, I'm not sure but I think Keith and the boys are on the cover of Rolling Stone this month (again!) I wonder how many times they have appeared there on that cover...?
    Love you.

  10. I can relate to your face hurting from crying so long. Sometimes, it can feel it's 100 pounds and going to fall off the neck holding it up. But it never does fall off. It gets better. Crying is good. It's good you did that.

    Mr. Moon will take care of that tree.

    That boy is precious.

  11. Owen's rock star hair will grow back in soon enough, don't worry. And the tears, something is shaking loose in you, so go ahead and cry. I love you.

  12. Well I'm right there with you and the sobbing. I've been doing it for almost 2 weeks. My daughter has accepted a new job in Orlando and my 2 oldest grandbabies will be moving away as soon as they can sell their house and her husband finds a job down there. It's breaking my heart, but at least I'll still have the baby every day. I have been trying to learn to stop fretting over things I have no control over, but it sure is hard.

  13. Honey, today was therapy and I cried through the hour and then the whole day felt hinky and wrong. I just wanted to eat donuts and ice cream and be rocked in the hammock but of course I didn't. I behaved all responsible but inside I knew I was kneeling on the grass sobbing great hard sobs.

    Sometimes life is just a fucking bitch.

    Thanks for Keith.

    XX Beth

  14. Sometimes your writing is so beautiful it astounds me. I read a couple of your paragraphs over and over getting lost in their beauty. I think the ripping of the tree is significant and somehow related to the tsunami of emotions. I am glad you cried hard and released some of the pain. I always feel better after such cries tho I usually have to sleep off the aftermath. You've experienced and witnessed such pain and while I know that these things will never go away, the pain can recede for a time - until we feel it again. You help heal more than yourself when you share this. Sweet Jo

  15. Good lord, i look away from your blog for what feels like maybe half a day, and migraines and trees explode, little boys suddenly look huge and wow, my life is boring.

  16. I need a cry like that.

    What you said about Keith Richards made my day.

    I would want to cry if you ever stopped blogging. Which you will, one day. Because change....


  17. I wish I could have a good cry like that. It just doesn't happen with me, unless it's tied to some immediate catastrophe.

    Look at Owen! It's amazing how different he looks! More grown-up.

    I can see having misgivings about the hunting. I'd feel the same way. But we are who we are, and the rest of us just have to deal with it, right?

  18. Yobobe- Sigh. Yes. Sigh again. Put the knives and hatchet away. Give 'em a kiss. Sigh.
    I think Owen was a bit unsure about his new look.

    Ms. Fleur- Well, it IS Rolling Stone magazine, no?

    Nicol- Yes. Heavy head and heavy eyeballs. This sometimes requires the resting of the head on a pillow for rather long stretches of time.

    Angella- You're right about the shaking loose business. Lord.

    Lois- Oh my god. I would be sobbing too. Nonstop. Hang in there, Grandmama. Hang in there.

    Beth Darling Coyote- Yes. Sometimes life is just a big old fucking bitch and she can bite my ass. Oh wait, she already did.
    Thank YOU for thanking me for Keith. I realize my love for him is something I should probably not bother to discuss as much.

    Sweet Jo- It is a bit astounding to me that we don't sob like this more often. I guess it's a pretty powerful thing that we don't need to do too often. But you're right- when we do, rest must follow. Thank you, as always, for your sweetness.

    Denise- And I look at your blog and think about how boring MY life is! Ha!

    Maggie May- I'll quit blogging when (a) They take the internet away, or, (b) I die.
    I swear.

    Steve Reed- I can only imagine that it's even harder for a man to allow himself the deep relief of such crying and I am sorry for that. And isn't it odd how the heart wants what it wants, even if what it wants is a hunter? And I have learned to cherish venison.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.