January 8, 2025
There is something very symbolic about this scene, but I can't figure it out, yet.




I have a car again.  I am not carless.  I am so happy.  I'm ecstatic.  And they did a great job fixing it, it's running like a brand new car.  Yayayay.  And thank you my wonderful team for helping me out of a jam one more time.  Oh I am so tired of having no money I could scream.  



But I went to the rookery and wrote for the first time in I don't know how long.  David took me up on Sunday, but I didn't write,  I hung with him and Ozzy.  But today I wrote until I remembered I had a meeting at 4.  But still I was free to do my favorite past time for a short while.






This photo was taken June 21, 2024.  
This one was taken today at a slightly different angle, is it possible that one of those dead trees has gone down in the last week.   The pictures of the beaver damage is right next to this and you can see the top of the dam, but it just feels like I missed something.  I'll go back and look tomorrow.  The one that is not in this photo is the one that had an active grackle nest in it this summer that I got so many photos of.


Waiting to be picked up to get my car I went outside and sat in the sun and wind.  The wind was so strong and cold and the sun was so bright.  It felt good to have it on my face.  I really haven't been outside much since Thursday.   


Tonight I feel a little bit clearer and a little less disassociated.  This is the stage that lets me be sad but not overwhelmed.  I'll miss you bro, but I am so glad you are not tied to your body any longer. 

 In our grandparent's house when you walked in the back door there was a short staircase leading up into the "maid's quarters" and the kitchen.  In the 70's  we moved into that house .  Whenever Mike and I  passed each other on those stairs we would do something sneaky to the other.  He was much quicker and usually got a tease in first, but once I drowned him in something like lemonade.  I don't remember what it was, just that I doused him as he was going out.   Once he dumped a half gallon of milk over my head for calling hm Mikey.  Oh, he was the trickster of the family, but I rose to the bait fairly often.  

Good night everyone.  

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Image
  January 3, 2025 The Complexity (what I refer to as the texture) of Life This is a photo of Michael Whiton, eldest child of Jean O. Whiton.  If you knew our mother, you know whose eyes he inherited.  Picture was taken by Linda Boardman.        I did not take pictures today, nor was my brain very able.  So tonight you get a poem I wrote 25 years ago that is more spirited than I could write tonight. I Believe in Color   I believe in red the changing forever-ness of red.  A pure rich red: cotton tee shirt red, berries on the bushes in the dead of  New England winters, cherries in June next to a slab of ripe brie. Magenta, a little redder than wine, blood as it begins to dry, the curtains I always wanted, floor length heavy velvet. Orange red on the skins of a tangelo; blood oranges in a light blue porcelain bowl on a small table near stark white walls. Dusty rose of an old flannel duvet, the height of fashion in 1980. I believe i...
Read more
Image
January  4, 2025 Michael E. Whiton  June 30, 1944 - January 4, 2025     I always talk about patterns, it is my researcher's brain.  This morning I texted with my niece, Grace, and asked her what her 12 year old was really into. She told me math.  He plays the flute in his school band.  I had an epiphany when the 2 things got put together.  To grow up with music as a constant all through your childhood you are exposed to patterns.  You become aware of what can follow what.  My 3 year old great niece makes up little songs, repetitive musical patterns.  Her father repeats them or adds to them.  She already knows how to put notes together.  That's math.  That's what Liam does.        So what does all that have to do with Michael's leaving us on this plain today.  Well, one pattern is that we all seem to be good with babies.   When Mike was 21, Jason was born.  He was good to babies....
Read more
Image
  January 2, 2025 Time is both too soon and too late.   Just keeps slipping.     I believe it was 1996 or 7 when I flew out to Bainbridge Island to see my brother, Mike.  He was very ill and my Mom was worried and wanted me to go assess the situation, which I did, probably in not such a diplomatic way.  He really was ill.  His liver was failing and he wasn't getting put on the transplant list, yet.  I've never quite understand the whys and the wherefores of all that.  But for the next 4 or so years he maintained, so sick, sometimes optimistic, sometimes beaten, but he made it to a liver transplant in August 2000 in Worchester.       24 years ago, holy shit.  EJ's entire life, a third of mine; and again he kept living, kept listening to music and trying to be kind and never regaining any reliable health.   His story is fascinating, and I'll tell it sometime, but not tonight.  Tonight I just want to ...
Read more