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| flowers from my husband that I have kept alive now for two weeks, simply by daily stem cutting and fresh water |
Wish I could sound off
that warm brandy and warm covers both indulge and sooth me, but, alas, it would
not be true, as I so favor the warmth of the sun on my skin, and the helpless,
hapless, romanticism of long summer nights and beach breezes. If I could only
jar that tonic for the duration of winter, life would be ever so perfect.
I think the summer was invented to curate my own particular private universe, and that the winter was created just to teach me a lesson, one god awful lesson, about what, I haven't quite figured out yet, but something horrible I am sure.
(Maybe it is for that horrendous childhood act of stuffing my peas into the grates of the kitchen radiator and then saying that I ate them all, I hated those damn peas even touching my plate, never mind haplessly falling into my mouth. They were GROSS!)
(Maybe winter is punishment for telling my ex husband, NO, his extra marital affair is not working for me. Her firebird was not all that COOL either by the way. Nor the smell of alcohol on her breath every time she opened her mouth to tell me she was JUST a friend. Just a friend my ass!
Maybe winter is the punishment that catholic priest warned me about when he found out I practiced yoga (a forbidden Hindu based practice by the catholic church apparently...who knew?), or maybe it is for the chastity I was told to live in, rather than my soon to be husband, but not quite there yet, second husband's bed at the time. My answer to the question of whether or not I was having premarital sex, at 51, was, hell yes, and actually, the best I have ever had in fact.
Maybe winter is for not answering the emails in my inbox, and, in fact, quickly moving most of them to my trash file. Maybe it is for my narcissistically mother walking out of my life, after all, you can not possibly blame her for that, she is too perfect, so it must have been my fault.
Maybe it is for getting my college degree, but failing short to ever even begin to go for that Masters.
Maybe it is for not being so accepting any longer of other people's bullshit.
Maybe it is for the day I walked into an Episcopalian church because I needed a change from all that damn Catholicism hypocrisy or the day I did a ceremonial dance on the inking of my divorce papers, thus releasing me from the chokeholds of a very angry man.)
I think the summer was invented to curate my own particular private universe, and that the winter was created just to teach me a lesson, one god awful lesson, about what, I haven't quite figured out yet, but something horrible I am sure.
(Maybe it is for that horrendous childhood act of stuffing my peas into the grates of the kitchen radiator and then saying that I ate them all, I hated those damn peas even touching my plate, never mind haplessly falling into my mouth. They were GROSS!)
(Maybe winter is punishment for telling my ex husband, NO, his extra marital affair is not working for me. Her firebird was not all that COOL either by the way. Nor the smell of alcohol on her breath every time she opened her mouth to tell me she was JUST a friend. Just a friend my ass!
Maybe winter is the punishment that catholic priest warned me about when he found out I practiced yoga (a forbidden Hindu based practice by the catholic church apparently...who knew?), or maybe it is for the chastity I was told to live in, rather than my soon to be husband, but not quite there yet, second husband's bed at the time. My answer to the question of whether or not I was having premarital sex, at 51, was, hell yes, and actually, the best I have ever had in fact.
Maybe winter is for not answering the emails in my inbox, and, in fact, quickly moving most of them to my trash file. Maybe it is for my narcissistically mother walking out of my life, after all, you can not possibly blame her for that, she is too perfect, so it must have been my fault.
Maybe it is for getting my college degree, but failing short to ever even begin to go for that Masters.
Maybe it is for not being so accepting any longer of other people's bullshit.
Maybe it is for the day I walked into an Episcopalian church because I needed a change from all that damn Catholicism hypocrisy or the day I did a ceremonial dance on the inking of my divorce papers, thus releasing me from the chokeholds of a very angry man.)
Maybe
winter is for all of the reasons above, and summer is the real tease, with it’s
short burst of tan lines and flipflops.
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