Thursday, September 18, 2014

Purloined Flowers

While I was walking this morning, Lily called me and she sounded horrible and she felt horrible. Up vomiting all night and running a pretty stiff fever, chills, aching. I finished my walk and went in and picked her up some ginger-ale and crackers and Emetrol and dropped those off, scooped up my Gibson and we went and retrieved Owen from school.
I got to meet Clare and she is a very pretty girl with huge eyes and lovely. She hid behind her mama's knee but she peeped around and smiled.
We drove to Lloyd and I said, "We're home," and Owen said, "This isn't my home. It's my grandparent's home."
I said, "That makes it your grandhome."
And it does, I think.

While I was fixing their lunch, Owen went out and picked me all of the hurricane lilies and I'm afraid I gave him sort of mixed messages on the gift, being a bit horrified at first and then knowing that he had no idea that would be any sort of problem at all and so I tried to cover up my shock and thanked him and put them in a vase and there they are in that picture with some of the last zinnias of the season.
How can you fuss at a boy for bringing you flowers?
When I was in high school I had a boyfriend who would do a sort of guerilla thieving of all of the roses he could find in dark yards at night and cut them and bring them to me in giant, huge bundles and bouquets. He was crazy, I was crazy in love with him, I've never seen that many roses, he bought me my first lobster dinner, he built me a tiny house in the woods with lumber and bricks he'd probably stolen from construction sites, oh, how beautiful he made me feel. How cherished. How protected and that was exactly what I needed, what I craved, what I yearned for.
As crazy as he turned out to be, I know now why I loved him and I do not chasten myself for that.
And oh, how he broke my heart later and I thought I would never, ever get over that.
I did.
But I still remember those roses, that tiny hidden house in the woods.

How in the world did I get from Owen and hurricane lilies to that boy and the roses and my broken heart? A short and crooked path, I suppose.

I showed Owen the shirt I bought at the Goodwill this week and he fell in love with it, the softness of it, the crimson velvet sheen. He wanted to wear it and I let him and I told him he looked like a pirate, like someone from Harry Potter, like Keith Richards. He wore it to swing on the rope from, he wore it to climb in the fig tree in. He was gorgeous.

Gibson wanted to feed the dogs some dog biscuits (we still have part of a bag of them which I will send home with Jessie for Greta) and I explained to him again that Buster and Dolly are not here anymore, that they are gone. He went to look for them anyway and when he couldn't find them, he munched some of the dog bones himself. He also shared two muffins with the chickens but he didn't feed Maurice anything. He rode his tricycle around in a circle from porch to hallway to dining room, to bedroom, back to porch, over and over again. We played on the bed, kissing games and feet games and silly games and I read him the Hand, Hand, Finger Thumb book for the one millionth time and part of another book that when I do the sad voices he pulls my face towards him and says, "Stop crying, Mer," and I say, "I'm not crying," in my most cheerful voice and then I go back to doing the voices and he has to tell me again. He has been carrying a little metal airplane around for about a week now and Lily says that when he wakes up at night he says, "Where my plane?" and she has to find it for him before he'll go back to sleep. I told Owen the other day that I was surprised Gibson hadn't scratched him with that plane yet and tonight, after they went home, Owen called to inform me that now Gibson HAS scratched him with it but he sounded fairly cheerful about it. He just wanted to tell me.

Jessie thinks she got the job and she is off having supper with friends and will be leaving either tomorrow or Saturday and Mr. Moon is heading up to Georgia to the hunt camp tomorrow for the weekend and I wrote a friend today that I feel like the unmoving center of a universe that swirls around me and she wrote me back that yes, I probably am and that it's okay and a beautiful thing and I should accept that and it made me get a bit teary. 

We're all swirling, no matter what, in the planetary sense, at least. It is a fine thing to be a center. Someone has to maintain the grandhome. Someone has to be here for when the comets and stars and suns and moons need a place to rest. 

I do not mind being that. Sometimes I think I have held myself back so much and sometimes I think that yes, this is who I am and I have always wanted not much more than a home and flowers and someone to love me and for me to love and that is exactly what I have with the addition of so much more and Miss Butterscotch is sleeping out again tonight and may she be safe and well, and all of us too. 

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. I am safe and well because of reading you before my night nap. As a storm comes rolling in to Alabama. Peace to You and Yours...

  2. So so glad you let him wear that shirt... good night from Vermont...I picked half the flowers in my yard ( well, not really!) cause we are expecting a heavy frost!

  3. If you are the center of a universe that swirls around you, that makes you the sun - source of light and life.

    I'd say that's pretty apt.

  4. This post made me remember so much that I laughed out loud - the day my mother came home to find that my brother (her prince) had picked all (!) blossoms from the garden and neatly collected them in the wheel barrow as a gift to her.
    And the weekend when the neighbours commented to my in-laws about how charming their grandchildren are and how affecting their need to help others. Only to discover that said grandchildren, incl. my seemingly innocent 3 year old had raided granddad's garden, sold the flower to the neighbours (collecting money for "charity") and now had a surprising amount of sweets in their pockets.

    This is a long comment but at least not anonymous and no spelltemples involved.

  5. Wow anonymous had a lot to say and most of it incoherent.

    While I was gone, the dogs went away.

    I'll keep Felix for you. His nighttime farts are amazingly bad.

    XXXX Beth

  6. PS-I bought a red leather purse in Florence. It's beautiful. I think that's what you're supposed to do in Florence, that and admire the ART.

    XX B

  7. Your post was so full of love.

    Anonymous made me feel a little bit better about my inability to form a coherent thought. At least I am not alone! :-)

    I hope Lily is feeling better and this sickness doesn't pass to the rest of the family.

  8. Oh no! The hurricane lilies! Poor Owen -- he didn't know. But poor lilies.

    I somehow had a feeling that Gibson was going to eat those dog biscuits himself.

    I completely love that anonymous comment above. What a wild tale of woe and voodoo mystery! It's a blog post in itself! (If you don't try to make too much sense of it...)

  9. Wonderful shirt. Looks mighty fine on that sweet boy!
    We have a Greta. A cat. A mean cat. Thirteen years haven't mellowed her a bit. Claws and fangs like a monster. Still, I love her... just from a distance.. another room... where she can't hiss and bite. ;)

    Wait! I thought I was the center of the Universe. hehe

  10. Hello me luv. That is my new favorite picture of Owen. Your story of the purloined flowers reminded me of when Walker was a little boy and from the back seat of our Mercedes said "look Mama!" and had written his name BEAUTIFULLY in ink pen on the cream upholstery. What can you do? :) Love you miss you wish I was with you. We must talk soon! xo xo

  11. Im late to this party. Did I miss a comment by anonymous?

    Mary, I cannot think of a more beautiful role in life than to be the sun around whom everyone and everything swirls. Including us out here in blogland.

    I love you.

  12. Dear Ms Moon check out my comments to Steve at shadow and light. Yesterdays post concerning male bloggers. The one I mention is excellent.

  13. Damn, late to the party and I missed the anonymous fun!

    Someone has to keep a candle in the window, Mary! It may as well be us!

  14. mary i- "Night nap." I love that. Was it a good storm?

    Denise- Aren't we all? Every one of us.

    big mamabird- I can't even imagine a heavy frost. And of course I let him wear the shirt but I wouldn't let him take it home. I told him he can borrow it but that I want to wear it sometimes too.

    Stephanie- That's what women are, aren't we?
    I think so.

    Sabine- Such great stories! "Charity." Uh-huh. Kids are natural born scammers aren't they? And wasn't that anon comment great? I should have left it up.

    Beth Coyote- Yes. The dogs went away. To their true eternal forever home. I am a much happier woman now. So sure, you can keep Felix. It's okay with me. And hell yes! Fine Italian leather goods?! I love red leather purses. I have a few...

    ditchingthedog- I feel almost certain that Anonymous's native tongue may not be English. Lily is feeling better today but not completely well by any means.

    Steve Reed- You're right about both Owen and that comment. Whoever it was left the same comment on about ten posts. I should have left that last one up. Who knows? Someone may really need a spell.

    Crystal Chick- We are ALL the centers of our own universes. Some of us just stick closer to that center than others.

    Lis- Oh god. What CAN you do? Love them to pieces, remember the stories. Oh, how I long to see you! Soon? And yes, we must TALK!

    heartinhand- Well, I'll maybe post that Anonymouse comment as its own post. Why not?
    And yes m'am. Some of us were born to be candle-lighters, place-holders. It does not suck.

    Angella- I don't think of myself as the sun. Maybe the watering hole and cafeteria.
    I love you too!

    mary i- YES! Thank you!

  15. I'm particularly late to the Anonymous party and can only imagine.

    The rest of it, though? Beautiful, especially the part about you being the center of the universe. :)

  16. I heart this post so hard. ~The short and crooked path and your red velvet tree climbing highway man, oh my.

  17. I should save this post to read before I go to sleep at night. It's so sweet and as mesmerizing as Goodnight Moon.

  18. So kind with the lilies, and glad that you were nonplussed about it. I am sure that it meant a lot to Owen.

  19. when my daughter was very young, Marc and I had had a fight and I was very unhappy that day and she went out and picked a flower, I don't even remember what it was, only that I had been very happy to see it finally bloomiong and it was the only flower and my daughter picked it to bring to her mom who was so unhappy to try and make her feel better and when I saw that flower in her had, my face must have fallen even further and then her sweet little face fell and I felt so terrible that I didn't accept her sweet gift with the love that she presented it to me. I tried to cover just as you did but the moment was already ruined. I still feel terrible and sad about that and it was over 30 years ago.

  20. Elizabeth- The center of my teeny-tiny universe. Which I believe I qualify for since I feed the chickens.
    Thank you.

    Jo- If I think about how beautiful my grandboys are too hard, I cry. I swear.

    Marty- Thank you!

    Syd- He could tell my immediate reaction, I'm sure, and I feel bad about that. He was only being a sweet child.

    Ellen Abbott- Oh honey. We've all been there. We all remember these tiny things where we feel as if we failed our babies when in fact, we were only being human. I know, though. I know how you feel to this day.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.