After a mere ten hours on the road, we are home.
We took the scenic route and so the extra hours were to be expected and it was worth it. The road through the mountains, the cloud-route with the valleys and the tiny hollers with cabins and a patch of corn growing in the front yard- it's the journey that matters, not the destination, although the destination has been fine to reach.
I am home now where my chickens and my cats live. Where my garden is. Where my front porch plants are. Where my stuff is. Where my washing machine and my broom and my dustpan and my stove and my iron skillets live. Where my goddesses reside, the mermaids, the Madonnas, the Frida's.
All of my remaining chickens are fine and my house-sitter reported the other day that she saw two loose dogs, two doors down, one matching the description of the dog who killed my chickens.
I'm about to go apeshit on someone. I'm about to go I'VE BEEN TO CUBA AND I'M NOT PUTTING UP WITH THIS BULLSHIT ANYMORE on someone.
My chickens are free range chickens. Their ability to run in my yard makes them happy and healthy and makes me happy and healthy too. They are miserable in their coop and no chicken-killing dog has the right to keep them in there.
Mr. Moon has already gone out and picked beans and is shelling them. We shelled some beans last night at Vergil's mother's house. She is a real, true gardener. When Vergil and his sister were little, she fed them with what she grew in her garden and preserved and what her apple trees gave her and the goats that she kept, milked and made goat cheese from.
We of course are not that serious with our garden but it sure does bring us pleasure. A large branch fell on part of our garden during a storm that happened a few days ago but that's just part of it. Trees drop branches. At least we got rain.
It's always weird, getting home after being away. The cats come running up, the chickens must be checked on, the porch plants must be watered. I say that I have to pee in the corners to make it all mine again, and that, in a way, is true. Not literally, but metaphorically, at least.
I've put a few things away and swept a floor or two and have laundry going and have talked on the phone to a very old friend who left a message on Tuesday- so long ago that he'd almost forgotten why he called me. This is the friend who believes in astrology who read my chart once for me and told me that although yes, I am a Leo, I am far more Cancer, which would explain my love for home and all that entails.
It's hot. It's humid. The crickets (cicadas? frogs? all?) are so loud that I can barely hear myself think on the back porch. Once again, I have gone away and I have come back.
I had a great time with my daughter and her husband and their magnificent son, August Glinden. In the few short days I've been gone my son has publicly come out as a trans man and now I suppose I can write about that from the perspective of what it's been like, to think you've given birth to four daughters and to find that no, you have not. What an adventure that's been! Up until now, it's not been my story to write but now I suppose it may be. The bottom line to it all, of course, is that my son is the person he's always been and I've loved him from the moment I gave birth to him and always will. Gender is fluid but love for my babies is not and when people are expecting a baby and get that telling ultra-sound and announce, "IT'S A BOY!" or "IT'S A GIRL!" I think, well...maybe.
Just love, y'all. Just love.
And love with your heart and love with your muscles and love with your soul and love with your eyes and love with your bones and love with your brain and love with your hands and just love.
Right now, at this point in history, I think that may be the only alternative we have.
Do it strong and do it with all the lights shining upon it and when you see something that reeks of not-love, of hate, of darkness, speak the fuck up. And when you see something that is beautiful and true and light-filled and right, say so. And with loud crashing symbols, as the Bible says.
And let's not lose our sense of humor because without that, life ain't worth living.