Wednesday, February 3, 2016
I awoke this morning and something felt different.
My first moments in bed were the same as yesterday and the day before, and the day before, and the 64 days before those, when slumber slowly fades, in the room by then bright with morning light, and then, with clarity, I remember.
Sometimes I shed tears before I make myself get out of bed, sometimes they come over coffee. Still, always, they come.
I realized, plotting the first few hours of this day, that I am beginning to live a life which feels like my life, despite the good fight I'm waging for you to miraculously return. Inevitable corners turned, I'm defining new routines and patterns that are mine, not ours. I keep the car key with its panic button by the bed, the tapestry tote bag now holds plastic bags within reach, and dinner might be oyster soup three nights in a row.
My new normal.
One day joy will return to my life, I know it will, but it wasn't today and I doubt it will be tomorrow or the day after, or the day after those ...
Thursday, January 7, 2016
..... Sweetheart, I need the bliss,
The bliss of your sweet kiss
What can the answer be, dear?
I can't go on like this
Just like a beggar, what can I do?
Hungry for kisses and starving for you
Press your lips to my lips
Oh, have pity on me
Craving affection, my craving is strong
Put your arms around me,
Right where they belong
Press me, caress me
Oh, have pity on me
One kiss and I know, I'll go
Riding on a rainbow
Straight up to heaven, I will fly
Right to the sky .....
Baby Have Pity On Me
2013/Cecile McLorin Salvant
Clarence Williams, Billy Mol, music and lyric
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
Hours drag yet they're a blur. The lights are harsh and the noise is constant. I try to breathe in unison with the ventilator but my husband's breaths are many and rapid. I need many and slow.
At home in our bed together, I often watch his slumber in the quiet and the pale light, of dawn. I've never told him I watch him breathe.
He doesn't know I'm watching him now, from a bed we cannot share. Dear God, let him breathe on his own again! Please, let me take him home for many more morns.
Saturday, October 17, 2015
When Spoke and I traveled to Italy, we rarely left the streets and their piazzas except to stop into coffee bars, trattorie and churches. Even museums couldn't hold our attention for too long.
Aurora Dallas was very much like that, eight of us soaking up the illuminating evening. We entered one church but passed on most shows. We strolled the 19 blocks, among the lights and under the stars, knowing this was an opportunity not offered by many other cities. Last night, it was, for me, a Little Italy.