Owen decorated the dancing area fully today with pictures he drew himself of all the people he knows for a dance party. I followed him around with the roll of tape and dutifully attached each one to where he decided they needed to go. "This gonna be the best decoration in the universe!" he kept saying.
Like that today.
Gibson sang for me this afternoon. He loves the Eensy Weensy Spider with all of his heart but especially the part about the rain falling down and washing the spider out. So he sang it to me and mostly, it was the word "rain" over and over again, quite clear, but with almost a sob-voice, a bluesman already, sangin' about the rain. He knows what rain is. He looks at the clouds and points. "Rain?" he asks.
"Maybe," I say.
It rained here today for about long enough to register the fact and then it stopped.
If anything, it just mugged it all up, raised the humidity and I had to turn the air conditioner back on in the midst of a hot flash. I felt as if I was going to come out of my skin, I felt like lashing the devil. I felt like screaming to the skies. But I just murmured, "Let's turn the AC on, Owen. MerMer's hot."
Yes. Like that.
I feel like I'm living in a hot flash today. I'm a stick of dynamite, just waiting for something to come along and brush my fuse with fire. I'm staying low to the ground, I am keeping it sober. The boys are gone and I kissed them sweetly good bye and did one more egg-check with Owen and made Gibson a bottle for the ride and I was a good MerMer today, patient and kind, and the soup is ready whenever we are and the fact that Mr. Moon brought home the Economy Size of detergent when my laundry room is hardly big enough to fold a napkin in was almost enough to push me over the edge but I girded my loins, I swallowed my frustration and kept silent.
Well, that's a lie. But I didn't go. I stayed teetering on the edge of that cliff, knowing that if I let the words out, the explosion would follow and that jug of laundry detergent has nothing to do with anything. It is innocent. As is Mr. Moon who did not even have to go by the store for me, but he did.
So let it be.
Full moon tomorrow night. Maybe that's it.
My house is decorated for a dance party. I have good manners. I do not swing my sword at dance parties. I smile and pass the butter mints, even as I burn, burn, burn. I wait for the full moon to come and then go.
As it will. As it always does. I am old enough to know not to burn down the dance hall for a whim and a mood. At least I know that.
I am old enough to know I may want to dance again soon.
Can I offer you a butter mint? Yes, it is a mite warm tonight. Why thank-you, I'd love a Co-cola. I surely would.
Like that. Tonight. Like that.