Saturday, September 27, 2008
Dreaming A Life
I dreamed last night I was adopting a little girl from Cuba. She was the perfect child who behaved herself like no toddler ever could and who held her arms out to me whenever she saw me and who was tiny enough to fit into a baby sling and I was excited to think I'd have this perfect, loving little child to raise and love and feed and take care of.
Well, that was a dream, and I have no plans to take on so much as a kitten any time soon. I am living for the moment the dogs all die and I can reclaim my library which is where they live now, slowly eating and clawing their way through the chair and the chaise lounge, bringing magnolia cones into the room to destroy on the rug which reeks of dog and is thick with their hair.
Mr. Moon and I were going to go out to eat last night. I showered and got dressed, which took all the energy out of me. I have a closet full of clothes and not one thing made me feel pretty or proud or happy to be seen in. But I managed to find something that would DO and put my hair up and put on make-up and we had a small drink on the porch and he was wearing his white shirt and Levi's and I said, "Honey, let's just stay in."
And he said, "I wanted to take you for a ride in the convertible."
"Okay," I said. "Let's change into our overalls and go for a ride. Then I'll make us some eggs and we can watch the debate."
And that's what we did. We got out of our going-out clothes and put on our old, soft things and fired up the Cutlass and drove around in the misty gloaming as the sun was going down and the trees were heavy with summer's full growth and the air was cool and I waved at folks sitting on their porches and I started talking about things as Mr. Moon drove and we were as close as can be, me spilling my heart and him listening and telling me he loves me.
We came home in the full dark and I cooked up deer sausage and potatoes and eggs with tomatoes and onions and made biscuits and we ate them in front of the TV and the presidential hopefuls debated and it was so boring I couldn't stand it and finally said, "I'm going to bed."
I washed the dishes and set the coffee to go off in the morning and we went to bed where we slept so well with the windows open and I dreamed of that child. I'm writing this now with a dog's head in my lap and I need to get the house straightened up and make Lily a card and make the birthday dinner and get ready for all the babies to come out to eat and celebrate Lily's birthday.
It's like a dream and that little girl in my real dream last night was so clear to me that I almost feel like she's here, sitting quietly while I write, eating her little bowl of Cheerio's, just waiting for me to pick her up and put her in the baby sling and carry her around with me while I wash the table cloths and frost the cake.
It was like a dream last night, floating through the evening air in the Cutlass, my words floating from my heart to my mouth, saying things I needed to say, hearing things I needed to hear, then coming home to eat breakfast for dinner, a good sort of dream and I would believe I made it all up except that there are two biscuits, wrapped in plastic and sitting in the refrigerator, left over from last night's supper, just waiting to be warmed up, spread with butter and then have honey poured all over them, sweetness and light, transformed by bees into something almost too beautiful to eat, but which we do, and should never take for granted.