Monday, December 14, 2009

Another Day, Another Holler

The fog has enfolded us like a blanket this morning. The banana leaves, growing tattered and brown are slick with wet. Drops from tree leaves fall to earth and it is a gray sound, somehow. Pat, pat, they say as they touch the ground, the leaves underneath it. Yes, like little cat feet.

It is December 14th and we have not had a freeze yet and it doesn't look like we'll be getting one today. It's sixty-eight degrees. Strange winter, but thank goodness for all the rain. It will soak through to the deep roots of the biggest trees, and then down into the aquifer. We will all have water to drink for another year and spring's new blooms will be something to see. I have even heard the frogs singing, back in the swamp. They must wonder, too, what is going on here, weather-wise. They should be deep in the mud, or doing whatever it is that frogs do in winter, and yet, it's warm and wet and perhaps their temperature is rising along with it. Yesterday I came upon Miss Betty, eating a small frog, flipping its rubbery body this way and that and after she ate it, she daintily wiped her beak on the grass, as chickens do.

The Bradford pears are finally turning gold and red. We do get color here as the seasons change. It is more subtle than oh, say New England, but we get some. And of course, our springs are amazing.

My heart feels not unlike the banana leaves, tattered and brown, but I think there is still some green there, and last night I finally cried while Mr. Moon held me tight in those long, strong arms of his and let me weep on his chest. We were watching the movie, The Wrestler with Mickey Rourke and he was trying to establish a relationship with a daughter whom he had not seen for many years. He bought her a pea coat at a used clothing place and gave it to her and I broke down. I dreamed of my own real father a few weeks ago, which is odd because I never dream of him. He has been dead for twenty years now and I saw him only once between the time I was six and the time he died. If he ever tried to get in touch with me, I do not know it except for once when he sent flowers after he found out that I had had a baby. He didn't even know it was my second child and I remember the oddity of those yellow roses in the little trailer I was living in. They seemed absurd and so did the gesture.

But I wish, oh how I wish, he had tried harder. I missed my daddy so much when I was a child, even if he was a mean drunk. I wish he had bought a pea coat and tried to give it to me. I wish that just once he had said, "I'm sorry I wasn't there." I think it would have made at least a small difference in my life. And thinking about all of this now, perhaps it is that absence of his, especially on Christmas, which has led to this holiday sorrow. I am sure I asked Santa Claus or perhaps God, (is there a difference to a child?) to let my daddy come see me on Christmas and of course, he never did. Well, who knows? Give it up, give it up, give it up.

Let it go.

After I cried, we changed the channel and watched the Rock And Roll Hall of Fame 2009 concert and it was Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, and Clarance too and for a while, I remembered what it was like to be young and alive and paying attention to each note and that was so good.
"Let's go see more live music next year," I said to Mr. Moon.
He agreed that that would be a good idea. I forget how much I love music, and isn't that ridiculous? It has saved my life on more than one occasion and yet, I get lazy. I listen to NPR or books on tape. I have always said that dancing is my favorite form of prayer and I need to remember that. I need to pray more with music. Bruce reminded me last night as he grinned and sweated and danced around the stage and it was just exactly what I needed, to sit in Mr. Moon's arms and watch that with him. It was holy and it was good.

So there you are. It's already afternoon. I went to yoga, I took the dogs to the groomer, I begged her to keep them forever but she declined. Damn. I know they're going to just piss all over the Christmas tree which I suppose I will decorate this afternoon. And if they do piss on it, I hope they get electrocuted. Ho-ho-WO! Know what I'm saying? And I'll put up the creche and the bad santa but that is it. All that other Christmas crap is staying upstairs where the mice nibble it.
And oh yes, I have spoken to two of my children on the phone and gotten caught up with their lives. They make me laugh, those kids and I sure do love them.

And guess what? The sun is coming out. Amazing.

I hope you are all well and that you, too, were embraced this weekend, even if it was just by the soft, gray fog. I thank everyone who commented on my might-as-well-slit-my-wrists-it's-Christmas post. Honestly and really, all those kind words got me through a very bad day.

And now I better post this before someone calls the police to come check and see if I'm alive.
I am. I promise.

Here's a camellia for your patience.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. Perhaps for some, being a parent is hard like being a child. And they don't know how important it is, because they're hiding from what they missed out on themselves.

    And they just couldn't. Show the love. Get it right. Pay attention.

    For the second time today, I will say - you can hold that small child now. Every night before you go to sleep. On Christmas morning when no daddy arrives. You hold her, and love her, and tell her what she's worth. And she'll start to feel it and let go, like you said.

    We are what we have got.

    What they couldn't give was not our fault.

  2. I feel sorry for your real dad. He sure missed out on knowing you. Poor soul.

    Sending you kisses and hugs. Will do it for real soon enough (maybe May?).



  3. Bill's playing at the BBC in March. Go dance!

  4. Jo- I know. Wise words.

    Ms. Bastard- I can't imagine anything finer. Unless you showed up for Christmas.

    DTG- I will! If my foot isn't still fucked up from the last time I prayed. Dammit.

  5. The Wrestler was such a heartbreaking movie.

  6. Sniff, sniff. Thank you for the lovely flower. I miss my dad something awful and he was the best. He was mighty proud of his flowers but especially the camelia, which bloomed all year long, even when it shouldn't. I wish you had a good father in your life, and am sorry for the emotions that movie dredged up. I just watched it too, and it was so sad, on so many levels. I felt like crying when I was done. You must have found Mr. Moon to balance life out a little bit.
    You are right about the live music, it always makes life better. Note to self, more concerts.
    We were fog bound unti almost 2 today - eerie, and still no sun. Maybe tomorrow.
    I'm glad things are lightening up for you and I'm glad you're feeling better. I'm shipping far away gifts today, the part of the Holidays that stresses me the most, so I'm almost out of the woods. Hugs.

  7. Beautiful Camellia, thanks!

    Hey, why not ask your mom if he ever tried to reach out to you when you were growing up? It's possible she was too afraid to have him re-enter the picture. Sometimes that happens. It could at least put some questions out of your mind...?

    Call me if you feel like. Hope you feel better.
    xo m

  8. Here we have hedgehogs who aren't hibernating yet (they may be by now, I suppose) and mating frogs. Also spring flowers out as if it was March.

    I love it when the tears come. They are the most liberating thing, and the best way to shed them is in the arms of a loving man. I'm happy for you that they came. x

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  10. Ms. Moon, I spent the weekend whacking back bushes and missed seeing your sad Christmas post until just now.

    I'm so sorry that you have a weekly anniversary as well as a December 25 anniversary. No wonder you don't like Sundays!

    Hope the rest of the week is good and that this year, Christmas is Owen and your kids and their love.

  11. Love the fog and banana plants and yes the camillia at the end. But we don't need rewards for patience. There is no patience, just delight. You are our reward, though I don't know what we did to deserve it.
    So sad about your father. I can't fathom it. Heartbreaking. No wonder, no wonder...
    Glad you had a good hard cry. Love that Mr Moon of yours.

  12. Bethany- Well, we all have our crosses to bear. You are so kind in your comments. I can't help but be overwhelmed, hoping that you know how imperfect I am. You are precious.

  13. Hi Ms. Moon,
    I was away from the internet for a few days as I was in South FL visiting my grandmother.
    I wanted to say that I have wanted to tell you that there are several things I have in common with you.
    And that I can relate to the watching a movie with your man (or alone) and stuff just comes out from inside (and I don't mean the tears and goopy face).
    I watched The Wrestler with my man too and cried.
    I flew back to GA in that fog yesterday and lightning hit the plane and there was a flash and a boom and the plane shook and bounced around. Was so glad to land and be back home with my family where it is safe.
    Anyway, catching up on your blog.


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