They're doing something to the railroad tracks and machinery is going back and forth behind my house, beep-beep-beep, grind, grind, beep. Miss Butterscotch was so traumatized by the possum the other night that she isn't sleeping in the hen house but somewhere else and she shows up in the morning, safe and sound, and don't tell me chickens don't think, don't tell me cats don't think, don't tell me babies don't think, even trees think, most likely.
Jessie's off to meet the painter, then to get her fingerprints taken to get her Florida nursing license and then an interview this afternoon, and this is really happening, really, truly and Owen was so happy yesterday when she showed up with his mama to pick him up from school that he said his brain was going to explode and both of those boys were wild yesterday, just wild, and then Gibson had a needing-a-nap-so-bad meltdown and he cried and cried and Owen got mad because we wouldn't buy him something he wanted because his birthday is about to be here and he's going to get a buttload of toys and he told his mother and me both that we are not invited to his birthday party and then he felt bad and oh, to be almost-five and not afraid to speak your feelings and to be loved entirely and completely even though.
I went back and looked at the purse, ready to buy, but it didn't thrill me as much. Shit. A hundred bucks. That's enough money for...a trip to the grocery, a lot of potting soil, I don't know. The red it was lined with didn't please me as much. So what? Purses. Fah. And hell yes, I can walk on stilettos, don't ask me why. To the end of the aisle and back at Pay Less, at least, but seriously, why would you do that? Although I used to have a pair of pink "reptile" skin heels that I wore when I used to go out with my nursing school friends, although I kicked them off when it came time to dance, and then I got married in them. What happened to those shoes? Where did they go? And that beautiful hippie dress that I loved and adored and that I didn't wear any underwear with and also that gorgeous Indian print dress that I wore when I was pregnant with Hank and with May, it flowed like a queen's gown, it made me feel majestic. Where do these things go?
And where do the babies go when the adults appear and where did I go, oh wait, here I am, sitting here, all the ages I've ever been inside of me and why does this make me weepy and what are they DOING on the railroad tracks?
I got to see both Billy and Togi yesterday and got hugs, hugs, hugs, such good, hard hugs, and why is it that some people, even if we don't see them very often, make us cry when we do see them because we love them so much and are so glad that they are on the planet the same time as we are, and why do I feel things so sharply, so fully that things like this happen to me? Shouldn't my edges be rounded by now? Instead I reach over and hold my husband's hand in the bed at night and say, "Why do I love you so much? I think I love you too much," and it gets worse every day, this loving-too-much, this caring too much, instead of the edges being rounded by this river of life, the protective coating is the thing which has been dissolved, and I want all of my children to be so happy, so safe, so loved, I want my grandsons never to feel the need to cry but of course that's not even reasonable but the thought of any being being in pain hurts my heart, even Butterscotch, her frightened heart forcing her to roost by herself somewhere alone, away from her sisters, and maybe all of this is why reading the news is just too painful, maybe it's why I can't begin to worry about what happens after this life, why would anyone take on that worry when there's so much here and now and also love and joy and every season the changes and the light and the music of the wind and the crickets and the voices of our loved ones and even the evil sometimes seems to me more of a cry for help and release than sign of the devil, and we all, all of us, yearn for the light and the love and the safety and the peace and the cool, clear water and all of us know, somehow, even from the moment of birth that we deserve those things and they can only be proffered through love and it's so easy to move people through anger, to propel them into action, that combined with the promise of a future life after death of ease and virgins, I don't know, I've never understood the promise of heavenly things, for me, if there is simply rest, it will be enough.
How fucked up WERE those railroad tracks?
I need to go take a walk.