it was baseball games on tv and thoughts of glitter and wearing shoes instead of flipflops. it was laundry left in the washing machine and ideas for paintings left on the tabletop and pieces of poetry left in the silence of watering maggie's blue flowers less often. it was van morrison and raul malo and neil young mixed with radio opera, sliced avocados with mexican food and losing the back to a diamond stud and having no other with a fit tight enough. it was perfect days in autumn sunshine and nights in the 40s and no a/c needed and it was still trixie belden and a bit of bird by bird. it was insomnia every night without fail and plain cake donuts while rushing to work in the mornings. it was staying late in the evenings with lilycat. it was life going on.
today is 10-10-10, but those are just numbers made up by people a long time ago and put on a calendar and i admit to not thinking they have any power at all beyond the power we give them. i give them none. i am supposed to hold the power in me, though lately it hasn't felt that way. lately i feel stucker than usual and i am stucker than usual and no numbers on a piece of paper will change that, unless that piece of paper is a winning lottery ticket. this town closes in around me, this house closes even tighter, and the chance that it might get better and allow me to heal and breathe is gone, the final hint from the universe at last accepted, acknowledged, and cried over, and i get in the jeep and drive and there's no place far enough away. i drive and i think and i keep the radio off or i listen to football games and the universe plays with me, lets me know it will be just fine. a drive yesterday took me 70 or 80 miles down the road before i turned back, and in the middle of that decision to turn back, my phone rang and it was the ever-wonderful michael, in exactly the same place, he driving to meet some friends, passing me on the road. he'd driven the back roads, i'd driven the interstate and we ended up in the same town at the same exact moment. a smile from the universe. magic.
mary's sweet olive tree is alive and well and tossing kisses of its perfume across the street to me. i walk through the neighborhood and, turning the corner to home, the sight of the catawba tree gone all yellow green, soon to drop its leaves, stops me, almost bringing me to tears. it feels like the last year we will visit with each other, this tree and i, and those sweet olive kisses suddenly seem like goodbyes.