So, I just picked up a comment on my last post from my excellent friend Larrie. She wrote:
"Let me just say this: you are missed.
I meant to post a comment on this the second I saw you had published again because I wanted you to know, I'm WATCHING for you. I am such a creepy stalker.
You'll get out of your slump. Just remember: it's good enough. You don't need bloody amazing brilliance to post something. You are pretty amazing, though, so even the little things... "this happened today, or my kid said this one silly thing" will still be superb. You have the touch, lady."
I have read and re-read this comment about a dozen times. you are missed. you are missed. you are missed. you are missed.
I am missed. I guess I'm not the only one missing the writer in me.
Larrie, you moved me. Thanks for the comment. This one is for you.
This happened today:
Dustin woke me from a dead sleep a little after six this morning. This bothers me so much less in these longer days of summer than it does in the dark of winter. 6:00 a.m. and I... we didn't used to be friends, no matter the season. But my body is changing as I've relaxed into my thirties and 6:00 a.m. likes me better than it used to. And I like it back. Sometimes.
Today I didn't like it so much, but that was largely to do with the place I was at in my sleep cycle. I was having a dream, a very vivid, clear, and realistic dream that involved the renter-from-hell who sued me and I sued her back. (living the American dream, Larrie!) She had married a different fellow and she had turned fairly sophisticated and lived in a nice house with beautiful furnishings. (not the case last time I knew this person) For some reason I can't remember, I was in her fancy house and we were being cordial to each other. She handed me a check for $300 (for what, I do not know) and she did it willingly and without malice. Then I went and played Frisbee with my kids in a park that had a big cement wall and lots of tall, fluffless dandelion stalks that made the grass feel alien and creepy.
Now that I've typed all that, I think that was actually yesterday's dream. I felt peaceful when I woke up from that dream, in spite of the creepy dandelion stems and the fact that the worst-renter-ever was in my dream... but today, when I woke up, I just felt confused. And I can't remember the dream I woke up from except that I didn't know where I was as I looked into my husband's green/brown eyes.
He asked me if I wanted to go for a walk. I did, but I was so tired and still so dazed that I just lay in my bed for a while. When he came back in and I got up, I stood looking at my clothes for at least 2 full minutes. I couldn't seem to figure out what to put on my body. I could hardly focus on anything. I think I was probably still mostly asleep.
It took longer than usual, but I am happy to report that I successfully dressed myself in appropriate attire and had an early morning date with my DustintheWind. He's the greatest, you know? I've mentioned that before, though it's been a couple years. Nothing has changed except we are older and happier.
But not too old.
We, in fact, made part of my dream a reality by playing Frisbee in the [creepy dandelion filled] park tonight with the kids. See... not too old at all.
But the most remarkable thing about this whole meandering post is that I think my dream (yesterday) gifted me more than a forecast for my future family Frisbee adventures. I've thought of this tenant many many times since I woke up yesterday and I feel a peace every time I think of her since the dream. Instead of feeling the sneering dislike of the past, I just have a few fleeting thoughts of well wishes and a hope that she actually can be as calm and, if not kind, cordial and free of malice as she felt in my dream. I think my heart is done harboring anger toward her, and that is a shock and a balm to the parts of my mind she was still inhabiting.
Dreams, for the WIN!
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
"There is melancholy in the wind and sorrow in the grass"
There is a pervasive sense of melancholy to this day. My eyes feel tired and burning and my head feels full, just like I've been crying long and hard. Which I haven't. I don't really know how to write anymore but, regardless, it feels like an answer to the question I didn't know I asked.
That part of me that used to hit "Publish" every day with such boldness has atrophied. I've become fearful and small again. The ease I had in expressing myself was swallowed in the last four or five years of quiet. I've had growth in different ways, and I trust the process of my life, but I'm sad for this part of myself. I miss it.
The optimist in me wants to conclude with something hopeful and light, but the rest of me just wants to swear and curse and tell that optimist that things don't always have to be light and fun in the end. Sometimes, like getting sick from eating something bad, you just have to sit in the melancholy and let it move through you.
Thunderclouds will empty their stomachs
And brother Wind will blow them to another place.
Far away, they will dissipate or morph,
They will become harmless puffs
Or shiny wisps,
Where people dream of bright things again.