Lily sent this picture today with the text, "She says, 'Look! I am holding her hand!'"
Sweet little Pepper and beautiful Maggie. I teared up when I got the photo. How I yearn to hug that little sturdy body of hers, so much like her mother's was when she was a child. It's hard. That part is so hard.
I talked to Jessie on the phone today and August wanted to say hello. We chatted for a few moments about what he was doing (eating a lollypop) and Levon chimed in to say that he, too, was eating a lollypop. Then I told August what Boppie and I had eaten for dessert last night which was vanilla ice-cream with chocolate sauce and M&M's!
There was a slight pause and then August said, "When I come stay with you again will you make that for me?"
"Yes!" I told him. "I will!"
And then, again, I could hear Levon.
"When I come stay with you will you make that for me?"
"Yes, Levon! I will make it for you, too!"
And I will. I most certainly will. But I told them, "Don't tell your mother!" And then Jessie and I laughed because she could hear us.
"Just kidding," I said to the boys. "She already knows."
It's been another incredibly beautiful day. Not one cloud, quite cool, and as clear as a cat's conscience.
Speaking of which- after I gave in and fed Jack out of Maurice's bowl yesterday he deemed me to be fit to sleep with again.
"You have done my bidding and have pleased me, human. I shall grace you with my glorious presence."
And I appreciated it.
I took a good walk today, four and a half miles. I saw the kid that walks here a lot. In fact, I think that most of his life may be spent walking and listening to his phone. I think that he has, well, differences. And possibly troubles. I waved at him and said "Good morning" and he made a movement with his hand which may have been a wave. He is very, very guarded and he never verbally replies to me. I go across the road for our safety when we cross paths and let him have the sidewalk. Once, when Jessie was here he came up to my door and knocked on it and gave me a very weak story about how his church youth group was trying to raise money to travel somewhere.
I don't remember if I gave him any money or not. But I am quite sure that his church youth group wasn't going anywhere.
I feel so sorry for him. He looks so alone.
No Man Lord has replaced his "Blood and Water" sign with one that gets right to the point.
"Christ," it says in red spray-painted letters. I see the old signs propped up behind the camper he lives in.
I tried reengineering my mask pattern this afternoon. I wanted to put pleats in the mask with the more shaped face.
I just didn't get it right. Perhaps I'll rip out the pleating part and try it again tomorrow. I got frustrated. But still, I did enjoy sitting at my sewing machine, listening to an audio book. Not "Guns, Germs, and Steel" but a different book. "An Almond For a Parrot" by Wray Delaney.
I've never read a book quite like this one. It seems to combine magical realism with erotica and quite frankly, it is holding my attention far better than the more scholarly one did.
One of the small but important joys of my life these days is tending to all of the plants I am trying to root. It's probably a green substitute for being able to love on my grandchildren but there is something so very, very satisfying about helping nature make more of itself.
I have a little table in the laundry room where I have three babies going.
The one at the top left is a knot of a species of philodendron that I want to perpetuate. The one to the right of that is one of my giant begonias and the one in front is a leaf from a plant that Kathleen gave me that I do not know the name of and which I cannot seem to identify. The mother plant has grown crazy big in one smallish pot and if it roots I can give this to one of the kids. I actually have no clue as to how it propagates and have another leaf stuck in water which is living in a window off the kitchen with a few other things.
A little Swedish Ivy that Jessie gave me, the mystery leaf, another giant begonia, my miniature sweet potato plant, a jade and some of a different philodendron that I have growing everywhere. That stuff will grow in water for years.
Can you see the little horse that I found in the yard and keep up there too?
This is a time of the little things for sure. Little plants, little chickens, the little miracle joy of finding eggs every day, little hugs and little kisses with the person I am quarantined with. Little chats with a grandchild on the phone. The tiny hummingbirds that sip from their nectar feeder all day long. It's also a time of appreciation of the truly big things. The planet that we live on and how much more than ever I am noticing the beauty of it although I thought I already did. I see more of it, I smell more of it, I think more about it which is odd in that I am spending almost all of my time on this one little part of it.
I wonder if the great sea turtles will lay more eggs this year with the dearth of humans and their confusing lights and sounds on the beach. I think of the ancient giant mothers crawling across stretches of peaceful sand under more starlit nights without us humans being in their way. I wonder if more of the babies who hatch will be able to find their way back to their mother ocean without our interference.
I hope so.
Well. We shall see.
Funny. All day I was as lighthearted as I could be but as the day has progressed I have become more and more introspective, and yet, at the same time, more and more aware of the reality of what is around me. On my walk I looked up and saw a branch right above my head and I can't really explain this but the very absolute fact of its greenness, its closeness, its aliveness almost felt like a bolt of psychedelic experience.
No. Not a flashback (I've been waiting over forty years for one of those) but a wholly novel experience, albeit one that lasted for only a second or two.
What are you experiencing? Anything deeper or more profound than usual? I'm curious to know.
Time to make supper.