Saturday, March 21, 2009


Last night, under the influence of phyto-estrogens, dong quai, black cohosh and vodka I let loose on Mr. Moon. I hurled words so sharp and heavy they cut his flesh into the bone. These were words that had I given them to him when they were newborn, would have been soft and tender, like baby greens newly rinsed and wrapped in linen napkins.
As it was, because I am no good at confrontation, they were like Napalm and I could hear his flesh sizzle as I hurled them.
Now me? I do this sometimes. I hold my emotions and insanities and hurts close to my heart until for some reason they insist on being voiced. Oh. I know as I say them that this is not the way to do it. That yes, they need to be said, but not like this.
Not like this.
And yet. I can't help it.
"You never..." I said.
"You don't..." I said.
"I feel..." I said.
And every time I opened my mouth, flames flew out and also denseness, like hot, heavy lava, like huge chunks of flaming meteors.
And then a friend came over to watch "the game" and I washed the dishes and he came into the kitchen and put his arms around me like a mother, like a father, like a brother, like an angel.
I went to bed and he tucked himself in, quietly beside me after the game and then got up early to go turkey hunt and by the time he came home, I was fine. It was all out, I was purged, I was clean, I was in love with him, with spring, with my life.
But he. Oh, poor thing.
We walked to the post office and he wanted to hold my hand.
"What? What? What?" he asked. "What can I do?"

At sunset time, he started up the motorcycle that we need to sell and honked the horn as I was weeding the camellia bed. I stood up and stretched and put my new weeding tool aside and opened the gate and went out to where he was, on the bike and and ready to ride down the road. I swung my leg over and figured out the pegs and wrapped my arms around him. Helmetless and jacketless and bootless (I was wearing my Crocs with the two tiny straps) we left the yard and went down the street, under the blooming dogwoods, the massive oaks with their new taffeta gowns of tiny green leaves and I trusted him with my life.
As I always do and always will.
He drove slowly and we passed cows and the creek and then, the air as cool as water on our bare arms, we turned around and came home where I had lentil soup simmering on the back burner, where we'd left the front doors open to whatever life had to offer.
I made muffins and he ate three with butter and strawberry preserves and two bowls of soup and washed the dishes.
And I am sitting here, on the back porch, tranquil as the Buddha, sitting in the dripping forest after a storm.
It's night in Lloyd.
I am with my love. And I think he is with his.


  1. "You never..." I said.
    "You don't..." I said.
    "I feel..." I said.
    Sounds like you don't say these words very often, or express your needs to your husband very much, so these words HAD to come out, like a volcano exploding - it doesn't choose when to explode, it just does it when it has to. Not that I'm the expert on marriage (HA, HA) but here are some phrases to say - in advance - to avoid the pressure building up and another explosion:
    For -
    "You never..." substitute - "baby, could you please..."
    FOR - "You don't..." substitue "dear, I really like it when you..."
    "I feel" is good - but keep it all about you, not "I feel X when you do y," just say "I feel." But as most men are clueless, you may have to fill in the x and y.
    And, do you know what we call people who ride motorcycles without helmets in my state? Organ donors!

  2. MOB- I know! I know!
    In some ways, I think it's a very nice thing that Mr. Moon and I do not have much practice at disagreement.
    As to riding without a helmet- Yes, you're definitely right. But we only drove up the road about three miles and very slowly. But you're completely correct.

  3. one of my most favorite things ever: this post. I don't even know you but you have put into words all those things I feel. lovely. thank you.

  4. Also one of my favorite things ever:
    This POst.

    THANK YOU, Ms. Moon. You are such a special writer. By this I mean amazing and touching and good. By this I mean that the last time Mr.Curry and I were having a Big Problem I thought of you and what you might say. That speaks enough to your writing.

  5. Tiff- Thank you so much. I am glad you came by and I am glad you commented and I am glad that what I wrote resonated with you. Very much so.

    Maggie May- That means so much coming from you. It truly does.

  6. That WAS a really nice post. You are a beautiful writer, and I've told you this a billion and one times, but it's true. And keep telling Papa what you want and need from him. I think he's strong enough to take it.

  7. I've done this same thing countless times. The worst part is that you can feel it happening in the moment, but it's just too late at that point.

    I'm glad that you have a man that can handle all the crazy you can dish out. Isn't that what marriage really is? Dealing with each others crazy and still wanting to see each other in the morning?

  8. Thank-you, HoneyBunnyLuna. I think you're right. Your daddy can take it but really, he shouldn't have to.

    Lady Lemon- Oh. I feel many of us can relate. I'm lucky to have a man who tolerates this foolishness. Luckily, it doesn't happen very often.

  9. Did you do it in a fever? Hotter than a pepper sprout?

    I've loved reading your blog today. I saw your comment on another blog and thought you looked a lot like the lady I want to be when I grow up.

  10. Hello All This Trouble- Hmmm. Well, I don't consider myself grown up yet but I suppose I should be at my age. But I appreciate that compliment. I really do. Also the fact that you like what you're reading. Especially that.
    Did we do it in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout? I haven't thought of that song in years.
    Answer: I don't believe in TMI. My children read this blog. Tee- hee.

  11. HA! I was referring to whether you married in a fever...

    I should've been clearer. I'm still having trouble developing a "tone" for my comments.

    I'm 34 years old and that's just a hop, skip and jump from where you are in linear land. My thirties have been hard for me but I'm beginning to get the hang of them. "When I grow up"...I say it symbolically. To acknowledge we are always growing, always changing, always moving.

  12. All This Trouble- I figured that out as I was falling asleep last night.
    We did sort of get married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout. Don't we all?
    You know, I loved my thirties and my forties were even better. But the fifties-oh, I've had some troubles with the fifties.


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