From a letter to a friend:
Most days, now, I feel pretty good. I’m happy being back in my old neighborhood where so many of my friends still live. This urban ‘hood is humming with life, and I am sustained by the pulse of the universe it contains, and the genuine human friendliness of everyone I meet – both friend and stranger. What a gift that is.
But then, out of nowhere, that immense grief comes and knocks me down, and I have to sit with it for a while, let it do its time. I hate it.
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Clenched, anxious, waiting on courts and banks and funeral homes.
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On another note, I had to reroute my pumpkin vines around the fire pit. They seemed inclined to grow directly into-and-over it. Bad pumpkins! Urban gardening, by the square-inch.
And hundreds of tomato blossoms, a dozen or so actual fruits. Sun, wherefore art thou?
Oooooh, you're going to have tomatoes that have flavor and nutrition, and you'll have them by the thousand.
ReplyDeleteIf I had anywhere to plant tomatoes, even a place to put pots in which tomatoes could be planted, I would!
Love, C,
I can relate, T. All is good, then whammo: big giant grief. You have much to grieve over and I expect it will take some time. You are right to sit with it - -it is the only way to let it work its way through and out.
ReplyDeleteI watch you and am comforted that these painful messes can be successfully worked with and that life does indeed get better. You are living proof, my dear.
Foxessa, at the rate this summer aka winter is progressing here, I'll be lucky if I have them by the tens. Although last night I dreamed that I found a bunch of ripe ones hidden high up on the trellis. (I wish.)
ReplyDeleteTara...
ReplyDeletexxx
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