blue sky saturation to full – the greys come peeling in like mixed-race piano keys, like a fully embodied mirror of the hudson – muddy, murky, mellowing — and here we are, by 5pm the sky has turned mellow in October. by 9am the brisk of the cooling night has only slightly dissipated. and here we are, the time i have with my little one turning timelier and timelier. i’m not okay with the time, apparently. is it not the full flesh of a purpling peach – gathering time at the edges and pointing inwards? will i ever be old enough to love you? will i ever be young enough to know you? and here the pull of music pulls time away from me again, a little tap dance; a little curtain call; a little dream of how we used to be; a little dream that things will start making sense again, the way they always have, though time ticks through them at varying colors and degrees — the way they always have, though time ticks through them endlessly
october 17 –
Today was one of my all time favorite memories already now crystallizing in the twilight as my brain chews on it / opening the door to the golden house to see little jamie standing at school with his white backpack and his red shoes and white hair and his brilliant smile. Taking his little hand / little heart of mine in his and taking him into the school with me / gazing sidelong at every other little child, saying his full name with a grin and even occasional ‘nice to meet you’ / His little grizzly drizzle smile and his big mouthed baby words
And the chicory and the Queen Anne’s lace and the wild daisies and the orange leaves singed at the edges with red and patches of green not yet turned
Is there a right way to love the world?
october 20 –
walking into that theatre felt like a waft of warm air hitting me in the face. the memories were visceral – right in front of my eyes, twirling and revolving – the things most tactile were of the season – the heat, the junebugs, the sweat, the swarm of flowers and golden shafts of light…and i thought that was funny, considering everything took place inside. inside a dusty old theatre box glowing with life. rattling with laughter. swelling. swollen. it still wrapped itself around the rafters for me. it still clung in the floorboards. and what struck me too, was the fragile speed with which the seasons change. with which this is an entirely different place now. and the trees, barely hanging on to the little leaves that sheltered us. and the air, whipping in the night as we walk brick by brick. how quickly the seasons change, how wildly the people shutter out the doors / and linger in the pipes, and how words still listen in the wings, and how every word spoken still reverberates – sound isn’t lost, it just gets quieter and quieter – soft waves of meaningful noise dissipating forever. if you listen, with the right kind of ears – you can still hear it.
topsy-turvy world; topsy-turvy month – how have i never had a moment to write? about a new show starting, dance feet aching, old muscles twitching awake. about linger-lacing, finger-dancing dates; about october days twirling in the ache of color. about golden light and warmth of autumn trickling through the trees. about theatre seen and theatres listened to – about laughter captured and lungs filled. about music dribbling; nahko bear and rain-drenched adventures. about jamie learning – going to school – leaps, bounds and buckles. about projects and crafts and thread and wool and breath and school and teacher teaching, bonding burning, friendship rolling, love-lists lengthening, newnesses and newnesses and october settling in the air – cackling. thai food listening and crackle-box curries and molten hot chocolate and yellowed haybales and greened corn maze mystery. and flashlight secrecy – kisses caught on your coat. boots and bumbles and brambles and words. and words. and love. and love. and more love. and light, and life. and october death in the gorgeous grace of gravity.