The Dark Knight was showing at the same theater where we went to see Moonrise Kingdom and sure enough, people were buying tickets for it.
I can't read the reports of the massacre which occurred in Denver last night. I just can't.
What good does it do?
Young man has a gun, uses it on people.
Death. Blood. Mayhem.
I can't. I just can't.
I can talk about Moonrise Kingdom.
It was a precious movie. And I don't mean precious in that way that means twee or overly sweet or any of that shit. It was just precious.
It was about love. It was about how love can save you. I think.
I cried at the end and I'm not sure it was a crying-at-the-end sort of movie. But I couldn't help it.
I'm going to go see it again. I feel like I missed about two-thirds of it at least. There were so many levels to study and mostly I was just enjoying it on the level of enjoying it. I was enjoying the visual gorgeousness of it and the music and the faces of the actors, especially the little boy who played Sam. I think that Wes Anderson must love faces as much as I do.
Well. If you haven't seen it, I would say go.
After we watched the movie, Liz and I went and had coffee and talked.
Oh god, it was so good.
I met this Liz at the Birth Center when I started working there in about 1987. I fell in love IMMEDIATELY and probably sooner. We've been through a lot together. She was with me when I had Jessie. She's enlightened. I told her that today. I doubt she believed me but she is.
You know how some people just say YES to life? Well, that's Liz.
Let me tell you this: If Liz were here right now and she heard the rhythms coming forth from the church next door that I am hearing now, she'd walk right out the door, across the yard, and into that church.
I should too.
I'm not Liz.
But just knowing her is a saying of yes to life. I swear it is.
We met over a birth. Now we talk a lot about death. But we are still in the in-between. We are both grandmothers. We know some stuff. We know we don't know it all by any means.
I know I love her.
I stopped by to see my boys on my way home. Owen. Owen. He's going to be three soon. Do you realize that? Three years old. He bade me come into his cardboard castle with him. The cat came in too and we hung out, the three of us. You know what he told me today? He said, "I like you." My grandson likes me. I guess that's about as good as it can be. For me, at least.
Gibson is four months old today. One third of a year. I got to give him a bottle and the way he held my finger in his hand is something I hope I remember on my death bed. Speaking of death. And birth. And in-between. He is starting to eat some food and he loves it. So far he has had bananas.
And tonight, Lily steamed some organic carrots and mushed them up and this is what he looked like when he had some:
And now I'm home and I can hear the drums from next door winding in and out of the air like snakes; da-DUH-DA, da-da-DUH-DA.
I have to cook my supper and eat it and go to bed because I am so damn tired. Sometimes I think I just get exhausted from all the stuff that goes on in this world that shows that there is not nearly enough love. Which can save you. Love can. Sometimes I think that the older I get, the less energy or interest I have in anything which isn't about love becomes more and more profound.
And sometimes, I think that's okay and natural. I think we're all desperate for it. Love.
I know I have been for my entire life. And been blessed to have a lot of it. And old enough to admit I need it bad and to know that you do too.
All right. That's all. Maybe, if you want to, go see Moonrise Kingdom with someone you love. Then, if you want, go see it again with someone else you love. I sort of want to see it with every person I love. Just thinking of that makes me feel really tender.