A couple of days ago, I saw something discarded, stopped, pulled out the camera and took a lot of pictures. I think for some reason I felt just like that umbrella. Maybe you can see what I mean:
I am tired of having to think so much about how and how much I can walk. I hate counting the blocks and wondering if I can make it to the grocery store and back on my own. I don’t want to feel so useless.
But, seasons pass in years, as they do in months, days, minutes, and now I am feeling an upswing from spring. Those tiny buds, those blossoming cherry trees, those barely showing leaves and their earliest salutations. It’s wonderful how the breaking of spring tends to break a monotonous gloom. I am happy to be walking in the sun. I am happy to be here in the US, going to the grocery store again and again. I am happy to be healing, slowly but surely. I am happy for parks, for people walking their dogs, for cupcakes, for late night talks with friends, for being alive and able to enjoy.
My sister, my tiny bright star of a sister, called me on Friday night to tell me she made third bass drum in marching band. The thought of her lanky frame carrying that big round drum, gliding along in formation around the field, thumping out rhythms with memory and concentration; the thought of these already short years she has before her in a marching band, the bus rides to games, the late night uniform storage, the contests, the cadences, she has so much to look forward, too.
I am bursting with pride.
I bought a book last night, My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me edited by Kate Bernheimer. I wasn’t going to buy more books while I was here (WHO AM I KIDDING?). This book, though, almost creeped up and into my arms. It’s an anthology of stories inspired by fairy tales from around the world, written by some great names like Joyce Carol Oates, Neil Gaiman, and Michael Cunningham. EXCITED.