We Part to Meet Again

Good morning.  It is currently 7:36am on a Sunday and I am showered and wrapped in a towel typing this.  I am very excited for today and woke up with that feeling of a having a spring within one's heart, scrunching and expanding and just generally causing your eyes to widen and pulse to quicken. I have that nervous feeling in my stomach - the good kind. The kind that makes you think of that Bjork lyric:

Unthinkable surprises 
about to happen
but what they are...

In any case.  More later today. I have an appointment with said surprises at 8 am sharp.

Happy Mother's Day to all of those who have mothers, are mothers, have lost mothers, don't ever want to be mothers, have strained relationships with their mothers, are mothers who have strained relationships with their kids, and/or who are just badass mtherfuckers who love fully with clear eyes and open hearts.

(pause; time elapse)

3:27 pm - The same day.

I am slightly sunburned and happily so.

It was hard not being with a person I love for so many reasons today. A hug. A sprawl in the grass in the sun. Fifty questions about her favorite things about her mother. Fifty stories to hear about what made her laugh about her mother until she cried about her mother.

But what else can you do other than step out the garbage can you've been placed in and maintain that even broken glass reflects light?

Bling out that garbage can, albeit sadly, and let's go.

"1. Letting go, which is represented by the bones."

 A list:

Early morning bakery for warm pastries. Good coffee. Good conversations with a sailor.  A three mile walk and conversations about mothers and sisters. A bookstore. A lighthouse. A picnic. The genderqueer fabulousness that was walking along the shore with their parents. Conversations about the appropriate type of products to use on your car. The moment in an artist's jewelry studio when three dykes rolled up on their motorcycles and walked in and the hilarity when the gray-haired dyke looked at my handkerchief hanging out of my back pocket, then up and me, and we both just smirk-smiled in that coded and hilarious way that we do. Conversations about love, consistency, exercise, health, happiness.  We riffed for a while on the invisible but visible hostility we've seen strangers throw towards read-as-masculine-lady partners we've had and the invisible but visible way we intervene- sometimes with our masc partners not even being aware of it. Laughter that felt really easy and good. Gold nail polish in the sun. Me driving while my co-pilot navigated. Dust on our shoes. Flowers everywhere and sun. Lots of sun.




This is life.  You absolutely have to live it.





be loved; be well,


k.

(Bjork lyrics from  It's Not Up to You)

(images: Mine, although the art piece is by Morgan Brig Sculpture. The quote is from the piece, which has three components to it. One held bones, another roses and another poppy seed pods. All of the parts were on miniature copper ladders that all had wheels on them. The statement with them read, There are big lessons in my life that are ongoing. 1) Letting go, which is represented by the bones. 2) Learning to love better, which is represented by the roses. 3) Acknowledging that many of my assumptions are actually illusions, which is represented by the "opiate" poppy seed pods.  The wheels are for the coming and going.)

(title: A very good friend of mine and I have matching necklaces of scissors. We met when I was 19 and have been friends ever since. We have never lived in the same town or even the same state.  The scissors, which she bought for us, came with the quote that is the title of this entry.  It represents all of the people I love who are sprinkled throughout the world. It also represents people who are not able to be in my life at a given moment in time. The love continues; Our lives continue: We part to meet again.)