Went to lunch today with Jessie, Lily, Gibson and Owen and then we went to Target. Jessie needed some things and wanted to scan some items for her baby registry and Lily and I needed a few things too.
Well, I didn't really NEED anything but I managed to spend a hundred bucks anyway. How the hell does this happen?
I took the boys off so that the pregnant ladies could ooh and ahh at all the baby things and I carted them off with me to look at bathing suits. I have not bought a new bathing suit in so long that I can't remember when I bought the one I always wear. I am afraid that at any moment it's going to do that thing where all of the elastic suddenly just goes and it will become a black hanging sag of a garment so I decided to get a back-up but I was not going to officially try anything on. I mean, forget it.
So I found a tankini and I tried the top on over my shirt and asked Owen how it looked.
"Good," he said, barely looking up from the pictures of pythons on my phone that he was engrossed in. I looked in a mirror and it resembled something a dominatrix might wear to whip her paying customers in.
So I bought it.
Oh god. My shoulders feel as if they are strung with rebar. Why the hell do I get so tense before a trip? There's not one thing I can pin my anxiety on. It's just here.
I've cleaned out the hen house and watered the porch plants and written out a poultry inventory and drawn a diagram of how to use the chicken waterer for Hank. I have stopped short of drawing a diagram of how to use the dishwasher as well. The man has a genius IQ. He can probably figure this shit out.
I have not packed one thing. And honestly, I could pack like one dress and a bathing suit and a pair of shorts and a shirt and it would be enough. There's a washer and dryer right there in the cabana house because... of course, since it's perfect in every way. So I don't really feel stressed out about that.
I did go to the library and got enough books to read for a month. And by god, I'm going to read some of them. I want to read and rest and breathe and be. I don't care if I do one other thing. As long as I'm on the dock by sunset every night with a drink in my hand, I'm going to be happy. And I know it.
As much as I love my life (and I probably love my life as much as anyone living a life on this earth) sometimes, I just need to step out of it.
As we all do.
On the way back to Lily's house, Gibson had fallen asleep in his car seat and I said to Owen, "How am I going to live without you for a week?"
And he said, "You just broke my heart."
"Here," I said, reaching back to where he sat. "Hold my hand because I'm going to miss you so much."
And he did.
And I will. And his brother, too.
But we'll all live and I'll be a much better Mer Mer for having gone away and come back.
Tonight is a blue moon and tomorrow, when we get to Roseland, it will still shine bright and just-a-tiny-sliver-minus-full-round and I'll be watching it rise over the river I grew up on. I might take a late night walk down the white sand roads that will be gleaming on it and as I do, I might meet the ghost of a child who lived there long ago, whose soul was so worried and yet, whose soul was so comforted by the river, the trees she climbed, the jungle, the vast number of stars in the sky above her.
Roseland is a just a full on magical mystery to me. Some of the worst things in my life happened there and yet, I still love it more than I can say.
Which speaks a lot about the place itself.
I'll be reporting in.
Much love...Ms. Moon