Like Christmas on sale. You have to be a very special consumer to fill your 2015 holiday needs the day after.
Cards, 75% off…all menorahs half price. You’re really a nut to buy a nutcracker when your tree isn’t even cold yet. My mother always put hers beneath our tree like a little ceramic spy.
Frankly, I think Christmas should pack her bags and get the fuck outta here.
Settling into to these two indolent weeks where my industry shuts down is a toughie for me. One would think we’d welcome a much coveted rest, but none of us feel this way. My friend Ed is down south visiting relatives chomping at the bit. Any minute he’s going to run from the house all the way home….without his wife or car.
I think as we get older we need our regular rhythms to steady us. I know I do. Despite being able to sleep as long as I want, I’m still up at 4:30 so I can be at Panera by 6 when they open. Sit-ups, a quick facial scrub…posting an essay, are things I need to do beforehand. To not do them throws me off kilter.
All things pass, I remind myself, and so will these two weeks.
Prednisone aftermath. Imagine subletting to someone who had a two month long party, and when they were finally asked to leave, left all their empties and dirty ashtrays.
Then you’d understand how my body feels.
This brings me to Carmela who left yesterday at 4. Have I been a mess, this weekend being our last. On Friday, as usual, I stopped off on the way home from my run to visit. Sure enough, she’s in the yard beside herself when I come into view. As I told my pal Amy, there isn’t a soul on earth this happy to see me.
I let myself into the yard so I could hug her and she, climb all over me. She’s so big now it’s like having a cow on your lap. She nuzzled and licked my face immediately making me cry. Irma, the maid, saw me from the window and came out to hug us both. Would have been some picture.
On Saturday, I knew, I needed to be direct with her parents. Can I come to your new home to see her? Asking for what I want is never easy for me. I’ve done without, my whole life, rather than ask to have my needs met, but that was before 12 Step taught me, it’s perfectly fine to ask.
They’re actually moving to an area in Brooklyn I know well. It’s Walt Whitman territory, since he lived right near where they’ll be. It’s a lovely street lined with old, restored townhouses by Brooklyn’s famous promenade, a stretch of park facing Manhattan’s skyline quite often seen in movies. I saw pictures of their new home and it might be the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen, and Carm will still have her backyard to poop and frolic in.
I boldly asked if I could come walk her Saturdays since it’s the safest day. The last thing I want is to travel an hour and have no one there to greet me, since quite often that happens here.
“Boot ev cos,” the matriarch said, “and you cood coom fer loonch,” but then didn’t give me the address. A rich friend of mine’s voice echoed in my head since he feels, they probably don’t want me to come to their new place. “This is about you Susannah…not them…you should just thank them, leave some cookies and move on.”
The rich defending the rich didn’t sit too well.
So lowering my barre to sea level (and activating the one under my sink) not expecting too much, I will go there this Saturday on the train…to see.
I owe it to myself and Carmela.
Accepting what is isn’t easy, and that includes one’s feelings…you mustn’t forget those, even if you are nutty enough to buy that nutcracker.