[ Tuesday, August 31, 2004 ]
It's 12:53 in the day. Cody is asleep & perfect 11 feet away from me, in his mother's bed.
I've been searching the internet for an ebook for Lisa. No such luck. On the internet or at the public library. I'm wondering how she'll get the first three chapters read by Thursday without a sudden trip to Joseph Beth or Hastings.
--Life in a small town.--
Two hours ago I scribbled lines while Cody ate scrambled eggs with ketchup & cheese. I thought about adding green food coloring to his eggs, adding ham. He's too little to appreciate that now. I'll save it for when he's older. For a time when he'll be able to laugh & giggle at the sight of green eggs & ham & maybe remember it, appreciate it & hang on to it.
I've been collaging in my head today. Imagining drab olive backgrounds with scratches & black & white text. There is a need to create something visual right now. But no outlet. So instead, I turn to words--those scrawled on blue lined pages & these right here, right now.
I've been thinking about blue mason jars, soapy dishwater, the prettiest shade of green, what it is to live passionately, the need to hang on to what we have for as long as we can. The need to document it, photograph it, write about it, analyze it, just hang on to it. How in so many ways, we attempt to make ourselves, our lives infinite & permanent.
There is no best method to live. We're all just scratching, trying to figure it out as we go, becoming whoever it is we need to become in order to survive with our insides intact. There is so much beauty in this world...even in the moments that are ugly, grotesque, that make us close our eyes because our minds cannot take in what we see.
Saturday my mamaw's eight children lined up for a photograph. They were smiling & happy, pinching each other & laughing. I thought about all the moments they'd been through. The hunger, the sadness, living poorly but living. I thought about it all. How each event molded them. How it inspired such will, such fight inside each of them. And at the same time, formed this huge lump of softness & tenderness right in their centers. I think of beauty. Hard outsides. Soft insides. Overcoming again & again. Rising above. Rising high above. With dignity intact. Creating a life for their own children, so far removed from the childhood they knew.
Dave met my family. And it was beautiful to me how easy everything was. How it felt like he'd been at our family reunions before. How it felt like I'd always had him there, beside me, listening to those stories & appreciating the humor & closeness.
Sunday, I met his mom. And again, it was all just so easy. I don't know that I expected everything to play out like this. But on every level, I've just felt warmth surrounding me completely.
Saturday night, I curled underneath a quilt Dottie gave me. She & my mom made it for Dottie's mother out of their dresses. The back is made out of worn, soft cotton & curling underneath it made me feel like a little girl. Just nestled perfectly & comfortable. I am so appreciative of the things my aunts have saved for me. The pieces of my mom that seem to keep coming into my life. Little items that have been saved for years, then remembered & passed on.
There was conversation this weekend, closeness, moments that made me want to cry either because I was overwhelmed by the beauty & meaning inside the moment...or saddened at the situation.
Each letting go is a tiny death.
Sometimes I just accept that for what it is & sometimes I'm just struck by it, lost in it & feel it so plainly.
But our choices are our choices and as sad as that is, there will always be the need to let go.
Sometimes I just wish it didn't make us feel so damn guilty.
~ Rebecca 12:52 PM [+]
