I had a brief dream last night, that I found my soul under a tree on several acres of land somewhere in my ribcage, or at the back of my head. It was an old rusty telescope on a tripod overgrown with moss and vines.
People asked me where it was, and I had responded, "It's hidden! I'm protecting it!" When I saw it, I realized that I hadn't known where it was (or even what it looked like), and had been neglecting it for all these years.
I run errands dressed like a bag lady. It made me self-conscious today, and I thought "maybe I should stop with the pajamas and the stained coat. People might think I am sickly, and they won't want to shake hands or breathe in my presence." But kempt is a lot like pretty, and my attempt at kindness is mistaken for flirtation.
If this goes on, I'm gonna be one of those mean ladies who acts bored and never looks at you and tries to kill conversations in their tracks.
Derek: Do you think the liquor store is open till 9? Me: ... Derek: I'm really feelin' some NA's. Me: I swear, you are from another planet. Derek: *chugs maple syrup out of the gallon jug* Me: We talked about this! Derek: Huh? Me: *giggle* we talked about this. Derek: When?
It seems increasingly like the most important thing in the world (in the little microcosm of my current headspace) is to get over it and love imperfect people and imperfect places and imperfect circumstances. (duh)
me: do you realize how good you have it, dad? dad: yeah. me: do you sit there and smile smugly about it? dad: no... me: I would. dad: I think I've had it pretty good for awhile, now. me: like, since you were born? dad: no, like since I met your mom. ..actually, I guess I HAVE had it good since I was born. I think you guys have it pretty good, too.
"There were cars passing me on the road. And I had this thought, if I were in one of those cars right now looking into this dark forest, I'd probably think it was a scary place. But I'm in the forest. And I know it's not a scary place."
"Oh yeah," I'd remembered, "Winter is hard." And summer felt too short, and fall was just a blur of color and wood smoke, and I cowered near the equator dreading the chill and worried I would spend so much time inside.
But you get used to it. You get used to dressing warm, and your hands get used to being left out there all the way at the ends of your arms to fend for themselves. It's not uncomfortable anymore. It's not distracting. They told me, my first winter here, that I'd get used to it. And I have.
I don't miss summer. Winter comes with fewer people, more music, richer food, less hustle and more coziness. We glow.
I rang in the new year playing a song at the Harbor House. I've been working two jobs, all day, every day, with one day off so far from the 20th of December until now, and counting. The six times I've eaten so far today include three arugula salads and a couple of teaspoons of bacon grease straight, cold in the pan.
Home sounds like home when I pick up the phone. I don't miss summer, but I do miss home.