See I just had to put this after the one I made. There was just a reason; you have to hear that there was more. And this is why one goes on and
padam
padam
padams along with Edith Piaf and keeps running along to see if that second wind is coming, because I do think something changes. The thing is I’ve realized in my life things take much longer stretches to change than for other people. My life takes long panning shots; other people have crashing disastrous cameos and short outtakes, but I’m just from another genre or something…. my oevre, whoever it is, has a different plan for my story.
There was a lovely breath of fresh air this last week on my birthday. Why I couldn’t say.
I really didn’t think about it coming; had other things to worry about, wonder about.
But suddenly in a day or two everything goes all bunches of flowers and people go away on vacation who are supposed to leave you in peace and they suddenly GO WOW what a relief, and then suddenly your obligations are reduced and you turn off your phone and get some late morning re-drifting sleep. People who were tense and ill the last time you heard from them are suddenly cheery and wish you well; sunshine sneaks into the room like a prodigal; the skies lift; and small animals who were fleeing your touch have suddenly come around and sit on your shoulder like you were their new property. The funds come in; the roads get repaired; the baby stops crying and says words; and dinners are too good. Air conditioning works. Water is cold. There’s even ice and lime. Sometimes it’s really worth it. What the hell.
One particular gothic abyss of a day, those I trusted, those people, said of me, Ah, whatever. She’s a survivor. She’ll come round.
And I was so astonished and bitter that they said that; it’d sounded so slighting; so abandoning. I needed them to hurt with me then.
But they did know me, after all. I guess they do. Doesn’t mean I don’t need what I need when I need it, but I suppose there is strength here I can draw on. What I have to tell them in those dark times is how that strength came to me, and how that just wasn’t pretty; how much I had to fight off, pushing the edge, nor did I ever ask for it. And when I say I’m a small girl after all, they just kick me in the teeth and don’t believe me. I mean nobody likes that much Disney anyway.
But all of you, you know, all it takes is that odd little song sung into your answering machine; some silk, some time to turn it into something well-sewn; some adornment, that new movement to a new tune, some finery, some unfamiliar delicious smells in the kitchen. Some of you there making sure that those things occur.
All it takes is something that will allow breathing room. The ability to drop it all once it comes. To say What the hell. It takes lace at the window at a cheesey Wyeth seaside. It takes someone making sure you know. And it takes inexplicable suspension of disbelief. And sometimes, when there are enough indications, I can do that.
I can do that.
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