“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

8.24.2015

an inside summer


the cat gets lost in the closet, or feels she's trapped, and her yowls, at first loud and indignant, go sad and sadder, quiet, quieter.  it's not a large closet, not a walk in, just a normal closet with two sliding doors, one open all the way - open all the way, mind you, because she at first yowled quite adamantly to be let in.  there is light from my bedside lamp, but never mind that; she sounds abandoned and scared, only going silent when i get up and peek in at her. she sees me and then she's safe, she's reminded i'm here.  if she'd only look out, beyond where she sits, she could see me when i return to bed, but she doesn't.  she finally convinces herself she is forever imprisoned and makes herself a soft place to sleep.  when she awakens, she'll remember her way out; in truth, she'll pretend it never happened.  i will play along with her charade.

life in one paragraph.  with cat.

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this summer has been one day following the next, all running together too fast, mostly all the same, a corner painted over here one day, a corner over there the next day.  there is only one last corner to go, sitting there, mocking me, whispering i will never finish.  i need help to move the furniture that sits there, and there have been other interruptions, but soon, i whisper back.  soon.  at summer's almost end i struggle to remember the days of fun. i tell myself i can count them on one hand, but that's just me yowling at my imagined abandonment, my imagined imprisonment.  the truth is that now the morning sunlight bounces off the floor as well as through the windows, that there are moments i am grateful for the long chore of painting these floors, grateful for the meditation it became.  grateful to know my arms and aching hands could survive it all.  grateful that my back, which almost didn't, did.   that last dark corner can mock me all it wants - it will be gone by this weekend.  the bedroom walls will be next.

i don't know where the furniture lives anymore.  a chair momentarily placed in front of a window nestles next to a plant and gives the cat a place to curl, so it will stay for a while.  a white bench that once held a mirror finds itself pushed next to a white table and suddenly, accidentally, looks and feels perfect.  as a place to actually sit - who knew?  the pieces of furniture returned to their usual places feel wrong on this new floor.  stagnant.  there will be changes.  i imagine everything elsewhere, but still haven't decided where to place the bed.

i'm just getting to the fun part.

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6 comments:

  1. some days i fantasize about getting rid of everything in my house, painting everything white, and then only bringing back the essentials. i'll never do it, but you made me remember that sometimes i want to.

    i am smiling at the cat, and the truth in that story. smiling at how it fits us all, pretending to be trapped in our lives when really our lives are trapped in us.

    here's to the fun parts.... xoxo

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    1. the further (farther?) into this i've gotten, the less i want stuff. or i want the stuff to change. the ability to push a table anywhere feels so casual. free. and to do that, you gotta have empty space in the anywheres. you know? i still have stuff stacked on the built in sofa space in the living room - i have no idea where it will all end up. :)

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  2. Elizabeth WaggonerAugust 26, 2015 at 12:09 PM

    Me too. Here in the middle I've had numerous thoughts about a tornado blowing it all to kingdom come and ridding me of the weight. I wonder if the clean room that would replace it - void of personality - void of ME - means that I would have been blown clean too.

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    1. now that's a thought. very blank canvas. i'd maybe like to be a blank canvas again. :)

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  3. and all i see from this is freedom, well certainly more, but initially it felt unencumbered, answering only to oneself, never needing to ask, shall i, may i, never obstructed to do something or perhaps do nothing at all. and you are capable, very, very capable. nothing better than an ever changing tableaux. :)

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    1. thank you. the last of the furniture has just been moved out of the way, my bed is squooshed next to a table, more stuff stacked everywhere, but YES! THIS close to the floor being finished!! I am a happy girl - this weekend will see it done. :)

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