Friday, April 11, 2008
The house is crumbling like a stale cookie. I keep fixing it and another part starts to peel, fall, crack. Today we had a handyman out to fix the leaky roof and replace a large part of the ceiling that got water logged with rain over the winter. I noticed there is a crack in the new tile floor in the kitchen by the refrigerator. How did that happen? Did someone drop a very heavy head of lettuce?The bathtub is leaking again, the dogs chewed up the trim around the back door, the floor I laid last summer is starting to separate in some places.
It still stands, this old creaky house, it could just give up and cave in on itself but it won't. It has sheltered four families, it has watched children be born and children die. It creaks and moans and I tell it, "I know, I know" I dress it up, apply bandages, glue, and paint and it keeps me warm and safe.
I am living in the studio now. I get up at 5:30 make some tea, find an apple and just hang out and make art. When Noah comes home I convince him this is a nice place to do homework. After dinner I come out here to relax. I write, I blog, I make plans, I pay bills, I design. This house has offered me a place to be me.
At night I sleep in Stevie's big bed, surrounded by the tree's she left on the walls. I talk to her while I stare out her window at the stars and if I am really lucky the moon. I fall asleep saying, "I love you so much"
The back yard is pretty, Stevie's cherry tree is full of hard little green nubs that will become big fat red cherries soon. I bought that tree for her as a present after radiation. She wanted to be able to see cherry blossoms from her window. She died when the last of those delicate petals blew away.
Everything makes sense some times, it doesn't mean it is right or good but there just seems to be a pattern, an order created by an author, a scientist, a God. This house is so human, the cells in my body are so much like the galaxies in the universe, petals and raindrops fall just when they are suppose to. I sleep in a forest like I told Stevie I would, waiting for her to come back from her adventure with the white pony, the little boy, and the Everything.
The 19Th is getting closer, full circle. I will have lived each season without her. I have healed I just don't know it because I have so much more healing to do.
The view from my life boat tonight is a pale evening sky that is taking forever to turn black, a horizon that is an imaginary line. The water is warm, the sea is calm, my companion is a crow that cries when I cry. I am not looking for land, I am content here floating, thinking and missing my sweetness.
Stevie you are still beating in my heart, I listen, I listen, I listen...mama.