Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Independence Day is a few days away. I may be independent at times, but I do not feel free.


Red sores on my hands match the places where I collide over and over with sharp-edged constraints that shape my day. Every twenty-four hour period is a blessing to someone who wakes in a good mood. Well, pull those chips off the table for me and poke your fingers through what's left. Hope is in there, but it's like like not enough salt. I know I shook some on there, but I don't taste it. I catch glimpses, and I mean brief static bursts between radio stations as I scroll. I get a funny deja vu feeling: was that lightheartedness? Was that happy anticipation?


I don't know why, but I did not turn out like my grandmother. She was happy instantly regardless of the prospects company or conversation. She was always fine with random, with unpredictable, and with sudden change. These characters lounged in the background of her life comfortably, feet up, arms crossed. Did she care? Nope. She would rub her hands together or laugh and was ready to change directions without losing her mood.

I need all the right props and I need them to stay in place.


Anyway, Lily arrived one muddy, unusually warm late December day and my dull predictable days toppled. Their pieces are scattered across December 26 irretrievably. My mood has since been trampled, bitten, chewed, and shredded.


Today is June 30 and I don't feel normal yet, but tonight I had a glimpse. I actually laughed. I sat with Jerry on the patio and drank a glass of Merlot. We rode his motorcycle and the late June air chilled our skin.


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