i like this feeling, this need to write again. it is pleasant, and warming, and familiar. it feels good.
its been a while since i tapped on these keys, since i felt the urge to purge a bit. its been a while since i felt like i deserved it. but the lucky thing about having this piece of business inside of me--this writing bone lodged in my gut--is that i can will it upon myself whenever i want. i can forgive myself and just start writing something again.
whatever the fuck i want.
today, i'm thinking of the inordinate beauty in the world. beauty that sneaks up on you or lives in your undergarments or knocks on your door in the middle of the night. beauty that smacks you across the face or sings lullabies to you or just washes over you with the calmness of lavender. this is the beauty that i'm thinking about today.
my daughter putting her own hair up in ponytails; inevitably twisting knots in her hair as she does it but so proud and resilient nonetheless. her neverending need to watch tv upside down on the couch, bare feet leaving marks on the wall, remnants of her enthusiasm and dirtiness.
my faraway poet finally having her fiancee next to her; in the flesh, breathing the very same air.
my best friend in the homestretch. pigeon to arrive soon. and knowing that i will see her in three days.
a new pearl jam song that speaks volumes of gratitude and affirms my heart.
plans being made for a wedding.
me, driving along, sniffing the bottom beads of my necklace like an addict; knowing that i gather them up and they all still smell of my grammie. a little hit of yvonne in the middle of the day.
knitting again.
the beauty of a friend's journey through grief and loneliness, watching her unfurl her own self, reborn and remade.
xander boegarts. red sox nation, rejoice.
two blankets on the bed, socks on my feet, the need to buy long-sleeved shirts.
my son and me, reading "bridge to terabithia" together. the book in utter clarity and light.
catching a glimpse of my new tattoo during the day, the ink beginning to peel, sinking deeper and deeper into me.
soup.
this family expanded by the man from austin; the glow that my children give off when they are around him.
all the good in this world that momentarily can take my breath away, can take away the subtle underpinings of panic at how much we've all fucked ourselves. there is good to be found. i look hard for it.
i search high and low for beauty 'round these parts. it can be found amongst the grafitti on the school wall and the tangles among the yarn balls and the arguments among the five-year olds and the laughter from the apartment across the street. it can be found under layers of self-hatred and worry, soaking up whatever good cells are there, ensuring one more day--at least--of triumphing over myself. it can be found in memories and forecasts, in the pillows in front of me and the sneakers on the floor behind me.
it's found in the sound of the dogs figuring out they are going for a walk; the bizarre playacting that happens between selkie and her godfather that only the two of them know how to perform; the sweet joy that radiates out from my son as he has a good minecraft game, even while i want to suppress and destroy the goddamned computer.
it's found in the burn scars on my hands, the kinks in my neck, the baby muscles in my arms. it's there in the soft weight of my belly and the tiny spikes of my leg hair. it lives in my black boots and on my lower eyelashes and in the hand-me-downs that clothe me.
"all accounts, it seems are partial; thus all perception might be said to be tentative, an opportunity for interpretation, a guessing game." -- mark doty.
beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
