“Big plans for the 4th?!” he asked, with a Cheshire Cat grin.
“Ask me on the 3rd,” I muttered, my mouth full of dental instruments. It was Monday. I still had my head cold, was getting a silver filling replaced and my Match.com guy was interested – in someone else. Did I really want to think of my first major holiday alone? No.
But today is Tuesday. The table is set for a madcap, potluck dinner with seven dear friends – or at least six. The seventh guest is my co-host for the evening, someone who “friended” me on facebook while he was traveling in Athens last month with his nephew. We are meeting for the first time at 6 o’clock tonight, roughly the same time my overnight guest and her dog Sofi arrive.
He has already written two poems for me. See if you can find me in this one:
Tulsa is where she says she comes from.
Really, she comes from everywhere…
Always, has, always will.
Creating her own sense of place
Each and every whistle stop of her journey…
You’d think she’d settle down by now.
Just when I am getting the hang of soaring in endless blue sky, I’m suddenly back down to earth with a THUD, dusting off my fanny, rubbing my scraped nose and wondering what in the hell hit me. The cycles in emotions sometime occur as often as the Whippets need walking, which is to say, the pace is all bloody exhausting. If I had a voice of any note I’d be belting out Company’s tune, “Being Alive” in a way to rival the stellar performance Dean Jones turned in for the stage show recording. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=am8qrrZAtP4
Little wonder that when a head cold finally got the better of me Friday night, I slept for 33 of 36 hours. The long slumber should have made me feel better but I missed a fabulous, sunny, summer Portland weekend to awake dazed by dreams similar to an endless parade of Marley’s ghosts of the past. And when those cobwebs cleared, I found myself, not only still behind with work and household tasks, but scrambling to catch up with changes in my social circle equal to 50 episodes of All My Children.
How often did you chuckle (with compassion) in your 40′s and say, “thank heavens that’s behind me?” as you watched your teenage son or daughter, or that of a friend’s, swing with every emotional whiff of wind? When you are happily married, the crazy, roller coaster experiences of your twenties generally seem FAR BEHIND you. Become single in your 50′s (along with a lot of your friends) and guess what you find? They’re back!
Life is again a roller coaster.
Get a ticket to ride – my best advise of the day. Trix
June 8th, 2010
Sometimes life goes at such a dizzying speed there is no time to reflect, to share – in other words to take proper note of the magic, the realizations, the treasures. Stuffed in pockets, filed electronically, littering my desk, stored on voice records, floating around in my mind are notes and thoughts of a zillion things and observations I would like to post, which is to say share…to offer for comment.
I hope this short notes finds you all enjoying the journey.
As always, Trix
Postscript: As I write this, Nina Simone sings, “For Myself.” It makes me smile.