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Wednesday, December 22, 2004 |
 A picture has been forming in my mind today. A rambling house, old clapboard, two stories, broad front porch, steps perfect for sitting on. In the house, rooms charged with color, artwork, mementos, found objects. Outside, a green dooryard, meandering patchwork of herbs, dense unmown grass and dandelions gone to puffs. Toward the rear, the vegetable garden, fenced inoffensively against deer. And attached at the side or the back of the place, a pasture large enough to support two llamas. In front of the house, a tiny town of friendly streets. Behind, wilderness. Last night I read the description of a dream of mine from a year ago or more; it was just such a place, and the woman who lived there was young and wild, hair dreadlocked and decorated with flowers and ribbons. And she was me. Like, the Platonic ideal Sam, standing before me so expectantly and with such a smile. And the person showing me this dream, my Dream Narrator, said, "Go ahead. Ask her for anything. She's a billionnaire's daughter." Today the impression of this home gains definition by the hour, like an idea steeping in the mind until it reaches the perfect depth of color. I'm going to start looking around. Just a little. I think maybe it isn't too far away. I think I'm almost ready. Maybe I'll finally be able to plant those tree peonies. *** The well was dry yesterday morning--and a darned good thing, too. The bulb that warms the pump house had burned out in the night, a night that got down to 9 degrees F. I'm glad I went ahead with that fourth load of laundry. *** Recently UPS delivered to me a box of wonderful handmade gifts from new friends. Everything was just perfect and so welcome. Included was a little envelope of CDs, some music to share, and I put off peeking in until yesterday, when I really wanted to hear some music. Each disk was intriguing, and I'll listen to them soon, but then I got to the last one in the pile, and what do you think? Lefty Frizzell!! I was so happy. I put it on immediately and listened for the song, the one I can never find. And there it was, track number 8, and I don't know for sure what it's called, but it's like, "Hurry Bring Your Sweet Self Back to Me." This was a song that was mailed to me in 1998 by someone I hadn't seen in five years, and it was the main reason I took my sweet self back to him (the secondary reason being that I had in my aloneness become a big fat idiot). Of course, it ended badly--one year ago this week, actually--but if you put together all the good days we shared since the very beginning back in the '80s you might come up with a few good years. When he left he took Lefty Frizzell with him, and it is the only thing I've missed.
And now it is restored, a Christmas miracle! sort of... |
