I have no doubt that these will return at some point but right now they have made way for these resorts which are one part old Catskills resort, one part funky old Florida beach motel, and one part which can only be described as modern, plain, ugly, and Clockwork Orangish.
I woke up from one of these this morning in which not only could I not find my suite where my entire family was staying including my mother and my stepfather (never a good thing in a dream) but wherein I kept stumbling into other people's suites where the most horrifying and bizarre things were going on. Pennyworth things. Ancient Roman gluttony things. Dirty, rotting, falling-apart things.
And I knew I had to go home but where was the baby (the ubiquitous baby I am responsible for) I had to take with me? And then news came of everyone being stuck there because the airports had shut down because a horrible storm was coming.
Much of this is easily available as to interpretation and influence. Some of it is a mystery to me.
Or maybe not.
But that is what I woke from this morning and I could hardly speak for trying to pull the sticky web of it all from myself and I knew that I needed to get out of the house, away, preferably with babies. So I ended up going to Baby Time at the local branch library and that was the most perfect antidote I could have been given.
I met Jessie and August there (Lily was working) and we sang and recited nursery rhymes and there was dancing and leaves made of red and orange construction paper and that one toddler whose name, by the end of it all, everyone knew because he raced around and poked his cute little fingers in everything.
August was shy but he danced like a little fiend with his mama and he pulled me up to go sit with him in front when it was time to listen to a book and he patted the floor, the way he does, and said, "Sit," which I did, and my heart was healed by him and by all of the children and their mothers too.
After that, we looked for books to check out and then we went in search of a portable record player because that is what I've decided to get Owen for his birthday. I am so excited about this idea! He loves my record player and we can go shopping together at Goodwills and thrift stores for records and I hope he likes that. We went to Best Buy and they didn't have one and I determined I'd buy one off online but I can't seem to get one by Sunday when his party is. I know that Urban Outfitters has them and I will check at Target, too. We had a good time at Best Buy anyway, August running in circles around the refrigerators and stoves and dishwashers and washers, dancing on his little toes and laughing, laughing. I did get this.
It's the Rolling Stones' latest CD of old blues covers. The music CD selection at Best Buy has been "condensed" as the helpful employee said, but they had it.
And then August took his mother home so that she could get him down for a nap and I texted Hank and he and Rachel were about to go eat their breakfast/lunch and I met them and that was a lovely bit of spontaneous perfection.
I came home and did a few chores and it began to rain and then to pour and the sky cracked with deep, huge belly thunder and I laid down on the bed and Maurice came and joined me and kissed me on the lips and then settled down, her paw on my arm, and we slept and it was dreamless and sweet.
Now I have pinto beans, cooked tender, simmering down to make the gravy and I'm going to make cornbread- quite possibly my favorite meal.
Right now it almost seems as if we are living in a strange version of Armageddon. Storms and earthquakes and a leader who stands in front of the UN to make comic book threats which could easily lead to nuclear war. People are dying and suffering and the sea is rushing to flow across land in ways that no one has ever seen before, taking buildings and people along with it. The damn senate is again trying to take away the rights of millions of Americans to health care.
No matter how much we try to shield ourselves from these things, no matter how much we tell ourselves we can't do much about them, they are going to seep into our consciousness and our unconsciousness and disturb our sleep, our rest, our very souls.
What to do?
Go watch babies dance with their mothers and sit where they tell us to sit and be there as lap, as arms, as nest. Love each other. Believe in the things that are good and are true.
Music. Books. Smiles. Touch. Beans and cornbread. Naps with cats while the rain pours outside our walls and windows.
But mostly- I-love-you's, I-love-you's, I-love-you's. Don't stop saying it. Don't stop feeling it. Please.