I wasn’t born to stay in one spot, to nest in the same city as my youth – or even to remember much of my youth. I remember only parts of it. Early days seem doable and soft, although they weren’t.
Snippets and Themes.
Who knows why? We all have different natures,. Different back stories. Different angels and demons that visit. Some stay for tea. Some burn down the house.
I believe in understanding what has come before but I have more to do in life now than be mired in the goo that sticks me to the past.
Details are the meat of memory
We choose what we hook into
But only after the introspection of a lifetime
Dancing and costumed Saints
Vapor trails of fairy dust
Lightning strikes from leather belts
A priest who smelled of alcohol
Mother love and salvation
Bubbles that snap like glass
Making Making Making
My father threw out my dolls
Hugs so deep I lost my breath
So many goodbyes I lost my innocence
My baby brother healed me
James Dean – signed – black and white under a pillow.
Carving initials in dressers in a blue room
One month of quarantine
Scarlet fever so red I burned
It isn’t me in the mirror
3 a.m. desert driving
Dead family in a smoldering truck
Rabbits scattering like city bugs when the lights go on
My best friend is still my best friend
Musicians and their hearts
He loved me without question but not I
I could not stay
More on foot
Roads of brick
Sunsets so orange I froze
Feet in dirt in cool weather
All of it in my skin
Every pore saturated
Every bit of the hard drive full
Auto reboot and software updates
Defragging in process…
I was born right-brained. I can not change this. I no longer try. I no longer choose to pay the price of being born a curious gypsy in a family of solid choice, logical, left brained people who have all ended up broken. I might root myself for a bit, settle into a home base, but all of the memories are seeds for writing, for patching together a rich life and reclaiming everything that is mine. It is all mine. Every single moment. And this is the gift.
There has been so much. San Francisco. New York. New Orleans. There is a list. Back and Forth. And lately – Florida was a respite, a surprise and gift that saved my life, truly. Cared for in a difficult time by people who shocked me with their generosity and kindness. And there is more here. More everywhere. I have been blessed with the abundance of friendship over the years. This is my strength. I have learned to see angels and they have learned to see me.
Michigan was a visit to set some things right. To let go. To love – without judgment – my brother who is ill and a recent widower. I could not have lived with myself if I hadn’t gone. There is a history of unfinished business. Perhaps, in another life there will be a resolution. For now, we are at a stalemate. But, at least I can breathe.
We look in the mirror and see a face, lines like a map of progress and decline. We move left, the reflection moves right. We exhale and what comes out is a cloud of colors. The colors collide and distort. The dark ones dissipate. The light ones glow. We choose. We speak to the shadow in the mirror and we say hello or goodbye.
Back in California, Los Angeles for now. The weather. That small bit of familiarity , the restaurants and film. I am my mother‘s daughter. Los Angeles is the place I found on my own. The seeds I left for a late life garden that I want to tend to. The core of everything possible.
I am a writer and an artist. I am passionate and free-spirited. I will never want to be anything else other than simply happy. I am a bundle of stories. I am a soulful traveler. I am the girl in the mirror in the snow in the past saying goodbye. I am alive. I am filled with possibility…
“Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious.” – ― Rumi