brusselsprout and sausage soup

i made brussel sprout and sausage soup last night- layered the potatoes, onions, garlic and sauasage then tossed on the whole brussel sprouts in the crock pot.. i put it inmy fridge and this morning woke, took a showere, and put the whole bundle in the crockpot contraption, added water, set it on high and left for my full wednesday (monday my world)..
work was busy-
no news
went to therapy and talked about god and spirit and gurus and india
went to pick up fela from day care then talked to sara--
big sobs
chloe was hit by a car and was dead..
chloe is our wee dog-
we got her as a gift from my sister for moses's tenth birthday and have all been acclimating and falling in love with her since..
i picked up fela, and sat both kids in the car and told them....
the rest of the night was sad
sad and full and real

i dished up the soup i had made and we all sat there trying to eat, but not being able to.
the soup was aweful anyway..
i dont even know what could have tasted good then
we were all just sitting there in our own loss-
fela wanted to make everyone feel better but also kept saying "i feel sad for chloe" just like he had three weeks ago when raina passsed-- we ate dinner and he kept saying "i feel sad for raina"....
this has been a hard month.. and winter is still on her way..

i will not make brusselsprout soup again
ever.

order out pizza

it's been a long year- but fast and full and intense-
monumentis
Michael Jackson died
and Raina
and my parents were divorced
and so so so much more
weddings
events
divorces
separations
and aging..

i have been roasting chickens to ground myself
making soup with roasted bones and teaching the kids how to make mashed potatoes and gravy..
but carrying around dreams all the while of other pleasures-- like room service
and vacations
and stability.
today i receive pizza delivery
mushroom and cheese
and play scrabble with moses (he doesn't want my help and still scores only 30 points less than me without me cutting him a break).
it's Saturday in this part of the world- but i am living in a Thursday bubble--- it has been three years and i am still trying to figure out how to best manage my work week.

went to the black door while moses and i were waiting for our laundry to dry-
i ordered fries and seltzer for moses and Mathew delivered us a plate of hand cut Montpelier frites and his salad special of the evening. I sat amidst a group of 50 something montpelierites and ate this beautiful (but hard to describe in an appetizing way) salad-- with my hands.. the bar tender (soon to be my property manager, i hope) neglected to deliver silverware and so i at the watermelon radish/walnut/winter green/ bacon/cheddar salad dressed in rosemary infused pink grapefruit juice piece by piece... and was thankful that i knew to enjoy it without the fork... i think it probably tastes batter that way anyway-- just like pizza quickly delivered and eaten on the comfort of my living room floor...

one day

and now

it's november

cold wet dark and... just so november

there's this eerie-ness about it- this silent sort of waiting- like everyone is secretly loving and internally celebrating how "warm" it still is, we are silent in it-- not too comfortable with it- just loving it silently- it's kind of like a slow peaceful death-- we know it is meant to be, we anticipate it coming, but we are quietly singing inside for each ray of warm sunlight.

i have been in an odd place-

somewhere between here and there

somewhere between happy and sad

a place i can only compare to a watchtower.. i am watching- watching my life span on-unfolding-children growing- white hairs forming- butt sagging- and yet, stillness... my financial situation is recovering v e r y s l o w l y

and my evolution feels minor,

and my reality feels skewed

i have been going in and out of each day and each day's little dramas, and all the while determining time marked by raina-s passing.

i remember what we had for dinner the night she died

i remember the first hour after she passed

i remember the hours of the next day

days

and these last two weeks.

i remember even yesterday as if it is a memory blended in

going to her house

going through her clothes

picking things

sitting with her mother

wanting to tell her that i didn't really want just STUFF, i wanted the freedom to remember her and know her however i wanted... i wanted to reach my hands in and scoop out the essential essence of her and make something beautiful out of it..

i wonder if i am numb

if i am trying too hard to translate this metaphor

but she keeps coming to me

and it all makes so much sense-

and everything else seems to be put into perspective..

what is this??

where is my tribe?

what am i doing besides coping?

what do i do now?

wake up

feel skin on muscle on bone

operate this heavy machine

yield

and move with grace.

and keep on trying

each day as if it were new

and keep on pushing

this body and mind

to have a breakthrough.

because i am lonely

and will always be

but still i am connected

to the sacred geometry

of

you

of you and her and him and that and this

story...

what if i stop and ask myself what i am doing?

and the answer is "i don't know?"

what if i stop and ask myself what i am feeling

and the answer is "i want to go"

what if i stop and wait for what i need

would the light burn through the fog to

shine on this seed?

until then

i will cope with dire straits

by maintaining my limited faith and

preening my self esteem and

remembering clearly all that brought me to this place.

my muscles will be strong

and i will lye down in the fear i know, knowing that i will know more

one day.