The paper this morning said that there was such a big storm in Tallahassee last night that trees were downed and thousands were left without power.
I heard some distant lightening. And that was it.
Tallahassee is about ten miles away.
Weather is odd.
This morning I feel like everything is odd. Foxes in the broad daylight and why is the laundry hamper always full and when was the last time I did any real cleaning and why did Owen look at my eyebrows yesterday and repeat "meal-meal" over and over again- do my eyebrows really look like oatmeal? And what is the point?
Just...what is the point?
To bring joy to others. That would be a good point. Wait. My pockets are empty this morning. I have big pockets you know. I need them to put eggs in, green beans, tomatoes, my clippers, my gloves, my hands and my Walkman, the rag I use to wipe the sweat off my face. For the little boy to put his sippy cup in when he's not using it. Whose pockets are big enough for that? The pockets of men's garments, mostly.
I am not making a point here.
What is the point?
Take the trash and empty the laundry hamper, take a walk and tend the boy. Soothe the mother and weed the squash, be witness to the sun, the light, the storm, the night, the moon, the bloom, the emptiness and fullness of the pockets, the wonder, the waste, the fear, the anger, the way the road lies before you, straight and true and then there's the bend and who knows what lies beyond that?
To hold on to what is, to try and remember to dream of what if, not just the scary things but the beautiful, loving, shimmering ones too.
I wonder what it's like to wake up every day and not have to talk oneself into being...okay.
I wonder how a storm can rage so nearby and not even have the slightest idea that as I am standing on my porch, looking out hopefully for any sign of rain, ten miles away it is pouring, pouring, pounding and slashing?
I am not sure there is one. Which is not exactly to say it's all pointless. There are, after all, tomatoes in the kitchen, waiting to be sliced and eaten.
I guess that's as good as any on empty-pocket days. Well. The day has just begun, the pockets will be filled as the day goes on. This is a proven fact. All I have to do is reach out to whatever is at hand and needs to be plucked.
Speaking of which.
Really, Owen? My eyebrows look like oatmeal?
Well let me tell you something: Your butt looks like...the cutest thing in the world. Except maybe for your grandfather's butt.
(He'll hate that.)
Okay. That's something in my pocket. Cute butts. I have a life with cute butts in it.
That'll do. For right now, on a Monday morning, that'll do.
A little girl once pointed at the mole on my face (not a particularly big one, either) and said, "I like your hamburger." Seriously.ReplyDelete
What is the point? I don't know either, but yours is good.
I was in town yesterday in the early evening, and let me tell you, it was dark and rumbly and scary. I was ready for the power to be off in Lloyd, and happy enough just to get the rain... When we finally got home, I joked watch it rain like hell in Tally, and not in Lloyd because the further we got away from Tally, the nicer the sky looked.ReplyDelete
What is the point you ask..? Well if you figure it out, please tell me!
Hope your day has fun and joy in it.
I wonder what it's like to wake up in the morning and not have to give yourself a pep talk too. Imagine being like the Daddums or Uncle Gene and actually feeling your best in the morning.ReplyDelete
Elizabeth- Well. I feel better now. Although god only knows what Owen will say about me today. Sigh.ReplyDelete
Ms. Fleur- Seriously weird.
Ms. Bastard-Beloved- I knew you would understand.
Lately, it would be nice to not have a day with a crisis in it.ReplyDelete
Your lack of rain reminds me of the drought we had back in 2007. I used to fanatically check Weather Underground and obsessively read stories of wells and rivers drying up and water supplies strained...it was all consuming and awful. I used to feel personally affronted when a neighboring community had a thunderstorm and mine didn't. Shaking my fist at the sky did nothing.ReplyDelete
Syd- Oh god. I know. I hope things get lighter on your side of the fence.ReplyDelete
silverfinofhope- I do essentially the same thing. Check the damn radar daily, at least. If I hear it's raining nearby, over and over. Come ON, rain! Come ON! Doesn't it feel like there's got to be something we can do to make it come here? It does to me which makes no sense at all.
"I wonder what it's like to wake up every day and not have to talk oneself into being...okay."ReplyDelete
That hit me like a kick in the gut. That's the way it is every day. It's why we come here, I think. It's why I do.
And do you think maybe you just had a speck of oatmeal caught in your eyebrow and owen was trying to tell you? or maybe meal meal means something other than oatmeal, has another meaning in addition to oatmeal, like, mer mer you are the most beautiful fabulous loving funny magical mer mer there is. Because that is really what he thinks about you, what he knows.
Maybe Owen was multi-tasking. Musing on oatmeal while examining your eyebrows.ReplyDelete
I'm having a chat with myself most mornings at the moment too. I think my problem is I don't like going to sleep and I don't like getting up. It's a tough one.ReplyDelete
Do you have a beauty salon near you? I find going and having my eyebrows waxed, any other bits that need doing, a pedicure and a facial cheers me up no end. If you can be bothered. Everyone deserves a bit of pampering.
Thinking of you and your world of cute butts xx