Wednesday, September 14, 2011

It's September again.

You died over a year ago. You died. 
The other night I got my palm read by this older woman named Jackie. She is a fortune teller. She's the best I've ever encountered. She told me I was going to die young, and then the room fell silent- which was pretty impressive, as there was a party in full swing, and no one seemed to be paying attention to the two of us. Jackie broke the tension by continuing her train of thought, "and when I mean young, I mean late sixties, seventy..." I'm quite certain everyone exhaled at the same time, and that a few of us vocally released a variation of "phew." The party then picked right up where it left off.  40 years seems like a good amount of time. Manageable, but I should maybe pick up the pace in a couple of areas:
-money making
-art making
-home making
-friend making
-baby making
-language making
-book making
-cake baking

There is some definite overlap.

You died, and became something beyond me. I experience you in a different way now that is all at once familiar, disarming, sound, and crazy.  

All I know is that I love you. All I know is that I want to live a good life. All I know is that I like the sun, and sun tanning. I like my hair.  
And that it's nice to smile. Laughing's quite nice, and so is stretching. I like animals, and acquiring smallish, antique furniture. I love to work with my hands- with every part of me. I like to sing about the moon, and the June, and the Spring. Ah, yes all I know is what I like. 


And what I dislike.


Which we won't talk about just yet. 


  

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