This little guy… pictured above…. This is his story
Im not really sure of his origin… He entered my life at a time that I couldn’t get enough layers between the world and I.
I walked into the studio at work… and climbed on the purple couch and poured my heart and soul out to the people I work with … I wiped my tears with the blanket… and took naps and such with it during lunch because I could not sleep at night.
Things calmed down for me… My divorce was finalized… Mr Amazing had been introduced into my world… when one snowy march morning I took the off ramp from the interstate towards work at even a slower speed than was recommended and caught a patch of ice and rolled my beautiful car into the the ditch at the very bottom of it…
I was bruised from head to toe… But my knees are what really took the brunt of the accident… and arthritis took up residency in them… That same blanket from that same studio was brought to my desk… to wrap my knees against the cold … to keep the pain at bay as much as possible.
This last July I took a huge leap of faith and left that career of 15 years… I left those boys in the studio who I adored… and set out to really discover who I am.
The blanket came along as I couldn’t bear to leave it behind and as I packed up my belongings… I put it in the trunk of my car…
Where this last Thursday I finally took it from its dark resting place and covered a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk down the alley my car was parked as I came from a Holiday meal… I wrapped it around him and told him I loved him… and I left wondering what adventure this little blanket would go on next.
Coffee Talk! Share your first pumpkin spice latte of the season with us.
Sound Track for this post… as they sometimes have… just go ahead and click play and keep reading…
Sunday afternoon… No Smalls!
Just Mr Amazing and I driving up the winding canyon road… talking about everything that is important in our lives right now… about getting older… and how priorities change… and perspective… He is turning 40 in just a few days… it is very daunting to him… I cannot help but laugh because I remember just two years ago being in the same spot… I remember being so afraid of it…but it came anyways… and something magical happened… I changed… much like the seasons… much the like the colors starting to touch these leaves we were making the journey to see their change…. their change is beautiful
And so are the changes we go through in life… I remember thinking how it was a measure of who I was… what I had accomplished at 40… which was not what I had wanted… not what I had imagined… and not nearly good enough.
But then the day after 40 came… and then another… and then another… and it didnt matter anymore… infact… most of my preconceived notions about life… who I was and how it should be did not matter any more… Some kind of dark magic happened. I quit worrying about it.
And I listened to him worry that he had not done enough… and he didnt know what he was going to do… and I smiled at him… fondly… because I am so full of the fondness for this man… and I told him to just wait…
We are not what we do… we are not where we have been… where we are going… what we have accomplished… None of those things are who we really are … We are what is inside of us… and something about 40 makes what is inside of us scream to be heard finally… to be paid attention too… to be expressed!
He shook his head and laughed his “if you say so” laugh… and I told him how sexy he is… as we do.
We stopped at some dirty gas station for cokes… when I spotted it… that old school… probably full of bacteria… one button wonder…. Pumpkin Spice Machine… and I drank that shit.
Because Life is not as short as we think it is… and fall brings out the best in all of us.
Image from WikiCommons, taken by Elia Biraschi and used under the Creative Commons Agreement
I cannot walk through the suburbs in the solitude of the night without thinking that the night pleases us because it suppresses idle details, just as our memory does. ~Jorge Luis Borges
After finding refuge under a tree… though it’s roots make my lawned mattress a lumpy bed… where I slept away the daylight hours… with one eye open… and my wrist twists through the handles of my satchel to avoid it being lifted… to the sound of someones small children playing on the playground littered with broken glass and sharps of all variety… Knowing that people stared… pitied… loathed me… crossed the way to avoid me… patrol cars counting the hours before they can tell me to move… I did move finally.
I pass the homes… still some windows lit even at this late hour… my mouth is dry… I have no water… my stomach is angry that I have no food… my skin crusted with a salty layer of dried perspiration… the summer heat is not too far off… but here in the night it has not found me yet… Soon it will hunt me and haunt me even in the night… though I just barely have recovered from the last attack… a bitter winter war hunt that many of my tribe elders did not survive…
My shoes are so thin that I feel each crevice in the walk way… each piece of gravel beneath the parchment thin sole between my foot and the road.
My legs ache and knees stiffen giving my walk a quirky swing that will soon cause my hips and lower back to beg me to rest…
There is no rest for me… No where to sit… So I continue to shuffle along both longing and fearing the suns return
At every bench… and every bowery… there is the mark against me… the unwelcome sign.
and so I walk.
This is a work of fiction.
I see this each night in my city.
Do not cross the street from them.
Do not lend to their belief that they do not matter.