07.19.13

there's no place like home...

i think about home a lot.
what it means-- symbolizes
to have one.
a sanctuary, a place of love filled
with the smell of comforting food
and familiar sounds
like crickets in the wind,
or the scraping of knives on dinner plates.
(have i mentioned that before?
it's such a particular sound, each home distinct
by the number of mouths or the depths of pockets.)

i feel as if i've been homeless for over ten years, maybe more,
never truly unpacking, never
committing myself to take root.
for the past two months, however, i have been working on creating such a home--
forging those roots both metaphorically and literally:
a garden, that sanctuary, filled with scent of lilac and lilies, jasmine and catnip;
the sound of trickling water, and chimes all specially hand-tuned
to the key of c# minor-- my favorite -- mournful and romantic.
it was to be a place where i could sip tea and write my morning thoughts,
do yoga in the sun and paint in the shade,
to run around in my underwear clipping herbs for thursday's dinner
hoping no one would catch a glimpse while i darted in and out.
i wanted those intimate talks under the light of the moon,
or that silly grown up notion of brandy swirling soirees,
the warm glow of christmas lights and meandering slate covered paths.
i wanted to be that girl, that woman,
recognized
and sensing that all i ever wanted was within reach.

but of course there was tragedy -- an occurrence in far too many lives --
so brutal and punishingly cruel,
especially in a world that i created, my therapy,
that was to be finally mine.
now my garden is slowly dying, burnt flowers are sticking up
like witches hair sown in cracked soil,
tomatoes are rotting on the vine,
drooping in their sad little state of generic black and brown:
broken lumpy hearts
like mine.

i am told i will recover. that i should make a tribute.
that "everything happens for a reason."
that...
"it's not your fault."

so bland and implausible.

i will recover. i know i will.
i just wish it didn't take so damn long.


i took this
the day after,
only a few hours and 400 miles away.
it was an incredibly difficult day.

i am posting this and my thoughts attached in no particularized order,
except for perhaps the click of my heels.

and like always, a song,
for the uniquely attentive.

x.