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1.
She irritates me. She is like a child, with her petulant demands for attention and insistence at having the world roll under her feet according to her desires. She stands at the door for five minutes, fuming when I finally hear her and open it. I ask her why she did not use her key. She's had a key for months.
"I could not find it," she snaps. I look at the half-dozen keys on the ring and smile to myself, realizing that I have been opening the door far too often.
2.
I paint and paint, sweat trickling down between my breasts, sticking my shirt to me like papier mache. The music is loud and I keep working in the heat. I am alone. The house is a mess. The boys are gone for a few weeks, giving me a chance to feel what it is like to be without them. It's a small taste of what my life might be like if they had never been here and I am unsettled by how much I miss them. It is a physical pain, to be a mother. My canvas and brush are blue, and I imagine the boys laughing together and diving into blue water, two little fish under the watchful eye of their grandparents.
3.
We sit at the table and exchange stories. He is younger than me by almost a dozen years, something that distracts me even as I focus on his softly accented words. I've had a parade of suitors lately, all of them very earnest and interesting. I think to myself that I have become one of those eccentric middle-aged women who is charming in her own peculiar sort of way. Still, the opportunities for companionship have done little to lessen my preference for spending much of my time alone, tending to my gardens or working on any other number of solo projects I have brewing. A friend once told me that I reminded him of an old Joni Mitchell song.
She will love them when she sees them
They will lose her if they follow
And she only means to please them
And her heart is full and hollow
Like a cactus tree...
I watch him stir his coffee and he smiles at me. We dance in the shower at midnight as if it were the Trevi fountain.
She irritates me. She is like a child, with her petulant demands for attention and insistence at having the world roll under her feet according to her desires. She stands at the door for five minutes, fuming when I finally hear her and open it. I ask her why she did not use her key. She's had a key for months.
"I could not find it," she snaps. I look at the half-dozen keys on the ring and smile to myself, realizing that I have been opening the door far too often.
2.
I paint and paint, sweat trickling down between my breasts, sticking my shirt to me like papier mache. The music is loud and I keep working in the heat. I am alone. The house is a mess. The boys are gone for a few weeks, giving me a chance to feel what it is like to be without them. It's a small taste of what my life might be like if they had never been here and I am unsettled by how much I miss them. It is a physical pain, to be a mother. My canvas and brush are blue, and I imagine the boys laughing together and diving into blue water, two little fish under the watchful eye of their grandparents.
3.
We sit at the table and exchange stories. He is younger than me by almost a dozen years, something that distracts me even as I focus on his softly accented words. I've had a parade of suitors lately, all of them very earnest and interesting. I think to myself that I have become one of those eccentric middle-aged women who is charming in her own peculiar sort of way. Still, the opportunities for companionship have done little to lessen my preference for spending much of my time alone, tending to my gardens or working on any other number of solo projects I have brewing. A friend once told me that I reminded him of an old Joni Mitchell song.
She will love them when she sees them
They will lose her if they follow
And she only means to please them
And her heart is full and hollow
Like a cactus tree...
I watch him stir his coffee and he smiles at me. We dance in the shower at midnight as if it were the Trevi fountain.
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From:
no subject
warm and delicious words
thru swells of emotion
that is one of my favorite passages from any song
i have always likened it to myself
and in times of doubt . sang it aloud
dancing in showers at midnight . beauty
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When did you meet my mother? ; )
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Miss YOU!!!!!
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I am a lot like #3 and I rather like it.
I adore #2 so much.
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i would park a half a mile from yer house, just so i could carry flowers to you up your walk
hope'n that my hat might not be too dusty
but my eyes the right amount of shine
and if yeh saw me first
comin up the lane
i'd use yer smilin like a lighthouse 'cross the prarie
and keep the wind behind me til my hands could dock in yours
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And he hopes her heart can hear three thousand miles...
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(Misc.: I was previously the entity "da _ r" etc., but I felt forced to delete it. I've already friended you on this new blog: please see the friends-only "welcome" post for further information. Thank you!)
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nice to have found your blog....
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Re: nice to have found your blog....
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Thanks for the post!
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Excuse me, but
"vintage pin-ups" are magnificient, too.
I was glad to find this)
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Re: Excuse me, but
I did not know these artists, but I took a look at some of their work online and it's beautiful. Thank you for introducing me to them!
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i'm loving someone eighteen years younger than me. i understand the distraction - but also the ability to overcome it, in least in certain contexts
you'd mentioned a while back about coming to visit? are you still considering it?
miss you