"Lost her mother." Ah me. We use such strange phrases to describe death, don't we? It's like putting a pink satin pillow under a loved one's head in the coffin and lining the whole box with sweet tucked silk but that's a human thing. We've been trying to take care of our dead and deny their deaths in various ways since time eternal, as the graves of the ancients prove over and over again.
God love us in our futile attempts to stave off the cruel reality of the ending of a life whether with a belief in heaven wherein our good deeds will be rewarded or another sort of afterlife in which we'll need our jewelry and our favorite pets and a boat to get us from this shore to that or a perfectly preserved corpse, stuffed with herbs and wrapped in white linen strips, our vital organs in jars beside us in the bowels of a pyramid which thousands of slaves spent thousands of hours building out of stone and sweat and blood and belief.
Okay. This is NOT what I had planned to talk about tonight.
Not that I had a plan in mind but whatever.
It's been a good day. I had lunch in town with a dear friend and I'm so glad I did. This is another friend with whom I can get to the point immediately and we talked about real stuff, hard stuff, and then we went to a crazy place called The Country Dollar Store where we bought bejeweled items
and polyester scarves which look just like the expensive ones and there were women all over the store buying earrings and necklaces and pink glasses frames and tiaras for tiny girls who know in their hearts that they are princesses. I bought the boys some stickers and a blow-up beach ball just like the ones I used to play with when I was a kid, blue and red and yellow and when Owen comes tomorrow and slyly asks if I have a present for him, I will.
I took the recycle to the trash place, I've been to the Post Office where I got a beautiful note from the man who owns the condo where May and I stayed in Asheville. In it he said, "I stopped by the condo a few days ago and WOW! y'all were great guests!" which makes me feel good. We tried, May and I did, to leave the place nice. And wasn't that kind of him to send me that note?
Again with the kindness and really? Can you get enough of it? I don't think so.
I also wrote a few words on a story I started a few years ago which I thought I'd lost forever on my computer but just recently found again. When I reread the twenty-three pages I'd written, it sort of blew me away because it was so good and so unlike anything that I've ever written that I felt as if a stranger had written it. I have my sincere doubts that I am up to that sort of quality of work these days but it's extremely exciting in a very strange and quiet way to think about going back to this story.
Elvis just chased down one of the hens and fucked her and in the time that it took me to write those words, he is done and they've both strutted off to other activities, getting ready for the roost. I'm going to go to bed early tonight to be ready for my boys tomorrow. I wonder what Owen will say and do which will crack me up. I am looking forward to Gibson's cuddles and kisses and giggles and new words. And god knows, I haven't heard "Brown Sugar " in over 24 hours.
As I told my friend today, there are so many things about getting older which I never ever expected. The first, of course being that I never expected to get this old and the rest of it I never could have imagined either. The way everything seems so accelerated, time and the process of aging especially. And the fact that I'm so busy and that there's so much to do and to be done. I honestly thought that things would slow down but no, they haven't. Not one iota. And that change, which is the only constant in life would be the most accelerated thing of all.
Well. Ponder all that shit and get back to me.
I think the chickens are ready to be shut up for the night.