Dang. It's been a day. I went away and I came home and I sure am glad to be here. I threw myself into the marketplace as if I had no fear of it, the result being that I disassociated so hard that I barely remember the experience but somehow I came home with a few Father's Day gifts, two cards, a new wallet for me and a vague memory of a mall filled with gozillions of people, some of whom were beautiful, some of whom were cute, some of whom were scary-looking, some of whom were flat-out not good looking. To be kind.
Bless their hearts.
I tell you what I do remember with visceral memory- hugging Billy. He texted me as I was leaving the mall which is just down the road from the New Leaf Market where he works.
I hugged him so hard that it was ridiculous. We chatted for a bit and then he had to return to his cheese-cutting labors but not before he told me a filthy joke, whispered in my ear, and I laughed and laughed. And when I hugged him good-bye, I got a little teary. You know you love someone when just hugging them makes you cry. But that's how it is with Billy.
I wished him a happy Father's Day, knowing full well that Billy never had a daddy to wish a happy Father's Day to, although he sure did have his PawPaw and he sure did love him. I didn't ever really have a father either so I know. I know. And now Billy's a daddy and he's such a damn good one.
I bought some soybeans to cook because I've been craving them lately and some nutritional yeast which we eat on popcorn and which I make "cheese" sauce with sometimes. Don't laugh! It's delicious! It makes broccoli edible. I use it in salad dressings too occasionally. Good stuff. And to balance it all out, I got a six pack of Shiner Bock's Ruby Redbird which I highly recommend as a refreshing summer adult beverage.
Then I met Lily and the boys at the branch library. Gibson is walking full-on in his cast now. He's so proud of himself. I knew he'd do it. I read a book to him while Owen played a game on the computer and Lily looked for books. A little girl started listening to the story too, at first pretending that she wasn't, but then she forgot to pretend and of course I'm a big old ham and I loved the fact that she was listening.
The book I read was this one:
I highly recommend that, as well. It was delightful.
Then on to Publix and finally, home. I put everything away and then, to get the taint of commerce and crowds off of me, I fooled around with some mums I bought at Publix.
The mint and lemon balm I had planted in the old dump-collected wagon had been pecked and picked by the chickens until there is almost nothing left. I have no idea what's in that dirt that they love so much, but they do. They don't touch the lemon balm in the little garden off the kitchen so I think it must be the dirt, not the plant.
I trimmed up a few camellias and collected the eggs, took the clothes off the line and switched my old wallet stuff over to my new wallet, wondering if I'll ever need another new wallet in this lifetime. I mean, a good wallet will last you twenty years, right? If I am still alive in twenty years, I doubt anyone will trust me with whatever we use for money then anyway.
And I wonder what WILL be used for money in twenty years? Will we just press a finger down on a pad or scan our irises which will then authorize our accounts to pay for our groceries, our manicures, our mortgages, our booze, bandaids, chicken scratch? Gosh. Sometimes just the thought of how far technology is going to go in the next couple of decades makes me want to stick around to see it and sometimes the thought makes me want to just go live in a cave.
Well, however and whatever, if I'm still alive I hope I'll still be able to scratch around in the dirt and watch chickens do the same. I hope I will still be able to lift my iron skillets up onto a gas stove and cook with a real flame beneath them.
I hope there will still be a baby to crawl up into my lap to let me read books to. I hope that Garrison Keillor will still be doing his radio show every Saturday night. I hope that I'll still be able to read with my eyes or least listen to books with my ears, to understand and follow them. I hope I'll still be able to laugh.
I hope Keith Richards will still be alive.
But what I mostly wish, I can't even say out loud because I've already been so lucky to have him for all these years.
One never knows. And what will be will be and if I have one wish for my next lifetime, should there be such a thing, it would be that I'll be able to sing harmony.
Okay. That's not my only wish. But it sure would be nice.
Because no matter what people use for money, they will always (and you can trust me on this) sing together.
And people will always need fathers. More on that tomorrow, most likely.
Drogo is trying out his crowing. There are three notes involved now but they are not very convincing. He shall become more full-throated very soon. I wonder if every rooster's crow is completely individual and unique. I have a feeling that yes, it is.
I will not try to turn that into a metaphor for anything but just to recognize and appreciate it.