Thursday, September 4, 2008

little girls with great big eyes...


I am trying so hard to remember the dream I had last night. I know that I was at my neighbors house, it was bright, there were yellow walls and it was infused with light. She was there and she had dark hair and tanned skin that was firm and young. She looked like she was in her fifties. She was happy and animated and I couldn't believe it.

I ran home to tell everyone that Mable was home and the house was beautiful, when we all got there Earl was there too. I didn't see him but I knew he was there. Somewhere in all the excitement there was Stevie. I can't remember exactly how or why but she was there and I was so happy, and I mean so, so, so happy. I just kept saying "Oh my God it's you, oh Stevie, oh Stevie" I kept hugging her and kissing her over and over.

In real life the house down the street is dark now, the once well manicured mature garden is a mess of little white wire borders that make no sense and random flowers planted in no order.
An East Indian Family moved in a couple years ago after Mable and Earl died. They are nice enough but I miss the neighbors who would sit outside and tell us all about the neighborhood when it was new. Mable told me some of the most beautiful stories about love and family that now live inside me as if they were my own stories.

I remember in the dream talking to Mable who looked more like pictures of my Mother-in-law who I never met. She was telling me that she kept getting younger but she was taking her time she wanted it all to last a long time.

I awoke this morning trying so desperately to access my mental magnifying glass so I can zoom in on the Stevie part. I know Aly was there and I know everyone was watching as I just gobbled Stevie up like I was a woman dying of thirst in a desert and she was a single drop of water that fell from the sky.

Noah got up for school, the house started buzzing and there is always so much to get done. While Noah was brushing his teeth I decided to pick up some things in my studio (a spit in the ocean) to make a path for myself. On the floor there was a pad of paper. I remember buying it a very long time ago for Noah. I have no idea why it was in my studio and why it was were it was but I picked it up ready to throw it out and on the preprinted cover is a small child's hand drawing a picture for his mom and he has written "I Love You" on it.

I opened the tablet, which has about four sheets of wrinkled paper left in it and on the first page there is a drawing of three little girls with great big eyes. They have long skinny legs and fly-away hair. One is holding an apple, one is holding flowers. They are delicate pencil sketches Stevie did. I don't know when she did them but there they are and my heart is so full.

She keeps trying to find me, to tell me she is here.

Stevie ,

I hear you, I am right here sweetness, where I have always been and I am listening. It will be your birthday this month, if you were in your body you would be 21. If you were here in your body we would drink champagne from a straw out of the pink Sophia's you were saving for a special occasion. They would probably taste like vinegar now but we wouldn't care. TT would want to take you to some seedy casino, Aly would want to take you to an equally seedy club.

Why is it when a child turns 21 the goal is always to offer them vices. It is like saying welcome to being an adult pick your poison, your old enough to start ruining your life.

I would take you to the forest, to big basin. I would pack a big picnic full of your favorites and we would collect moss, and rocks. I would take you shopping at an old bookstore and let you fill the car up with novels. At night we would drive to the beach and watch the phosphorescent waves crash and stare up at the big fat moon. We would have a late dinner and I would buy you the most incredible gourmet feast.

We would drive home listening to your music, and you would fall asleep, and I would be the luckiest mom in the whole world.

Thank you for the three little girls, you know what they mean to me, three is a magic number.

I love you too.

Mama

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