It's a bit of loveliness from Winnie & Tulula's
it looks like comfort.
I wanted wings for this year.
This coming year I think I need a new nest,
even if it's in the same spot.
I keep dropping dishes and breaking them and surely, I think, that means something, me who reads something into everything, surely it is a sign - if only I knew the language I would know what it is telling me, but I don't and the dishes keep breaking, and I toss the pieces out, not wanting the memories of broken things cluttering up my nest, keep thinking of Chocolat, poor Anouk breaking the urn holding her grandmother's ashes, Vienne finally tossing them into the North wind, finding freedom. What should I toss, I wonder, how to feather this nest to make it feel new, so much I love here, so much history, so few new things wanted, but feeling changes in whatever wind blows by, knowing I need to do more than rearrange the furniture, though, of course, that is my first move, often made throughout the year, nothing new there. Do I start with the bedroom closet, saying goodbye at last to clothes that no longer fit me, though I have lost some weight this last month, or with the silverware drawer, which holds no silver? January always begins with the purge of magazines, but I have purchased less this year, and tossed most already, down to mostly the few I cannot let go, but the house is a mess, cluttered beyond its usual messiness, - we will soon be slowed down at work; I can catch my breath, find some energy, clean both home and business, and I feel antsy to get there, to begin. But after the cleaning, then what? I know, I should wait until cleaning has actually been accomplished, but I can't help looking forward to inventing more studio space, to pushing forward with other ideas I have dancing around in my head.
I will start with more flowers, just the $3.00 bouquets from the grocery store until the neighborhood starts to blossom again. This morning that seems far away, fog laying on the brick streets, bare branches my view now. Wet leaves still driving me crazy, tracked into the house no matter what measures I try to stop them - I told a friend yesterday that yes, we take off our shoes asap inside the front door, but when you are as old as I am, you cannot get that left boot off without hopping to a chair, and leaves fall off during that hop.
So. A chair inside the door.
See how easy that was?
Well, the idea was easy.
It will require logistical miracles to accomplish,
but I like that challenge.