Because of a Crow
Because of a crow,
I am here.
As I walked to my car this morning, with my load of laundry to drop by my mom's as I picked up the directions to the desert, I heard something, "Splat, spit, splat!" A visual accompanied the noise: giant white glistening spots on my already dusty red car. I looked up at the bird with amused frustration, "Crow! Go away!" It just sat in the eucalyptus tree admiring it's handiwork on the roof of my car. I laughed.
The laundry barely fit in the trunk. It's been getting a little out of control; I've been too busy playing. Without some sort of structure at work, the possibilities for days seem endless: hiking, swimming, biking, writing, baking, driving, visiting, reading, etc. Any number of distractions. The urgency I'd momentarily shed in Spain is back. I'm squeezing everything out of the seconds I have here, not so much afraid they'll end anymore. Just a feeling of constant expectation in my chest, "What's next?"
I hold up fine until mom asks me how I am. I want someone to play with me today. Not just anyone. A happily every after someone. I mourn briefly and brush the tears behind my sunglasses before telling her about the crow and my entertaining Sunday with Jane and Dad. Dad and I watched the drummers at Balboa Park. I laughed and he smiled. I think he's forgotten how to laugh and feel it. I remember. The dolphins taught me again the other day.
Early yesterday, Jane and I giggled as we ran along the beach intimidated by the waves and the abundance of surfers. She said they looked like a herd of wildebeast and I laughed so much we didn't need the bike bells to alert people as we rode up behind them. I dove in our pool when we got back and came up sputtering, "cold!" The three of us grabbed burgers. Dad and I drove around, him afraid he's going no where, me enjoying the wandering. He left and I couldn't fix him.
When he left, I went to check in with Jane who was furious with Sean telling her girls couldn't do anything. Ben and Bob and Adam had taken her bike and the sunset promised to be amazing, so we extracted my road bike from my closet of forgotten toys (backpack, sleeping bags, snorkels, fins, frisbees, etc) and she took my cruiser so we could chase the light. We made dinner when we got back. She likes the corner lemon bars. I ate enough salad so I didn't have to take my vitamin K pill last night.
It's hot today as mom and I catch up on her used to be brothel steps outside her apartment. The pictures she's showed me of the desert might be enough. I'm not sure I'm keen on leaving the water today. Plus she says her boyfriend might take me out surfing this afternoon so I get to try out the water and my new wetsuit!
And I might have time for a bike ride. Riding my road bike yesterday, I rememberd how fun it is to go fast and have real gears and brakes on a bike. One rotation of the pedal sent me flying; I like efforts amplified. I could go for a bike ride now while the rest of the world works and doesn't crowd the bike trails. I don't want to run over small children like mom almost did yesterday. I'll go fast until I have my own; they I'll get one of those bike seats and ride with them. Helmets all around. "Cosco" in Spanish.
I could visit my cousin and hold her babies or play with her little boy, but I might not be back in time to play in the waves. And it makes me remember that I want my own. Some other time. Plus there's the crow.
Szilvie says the word "shat." It's the proper tense and everything, but it's a funny word. I think of Poe and his Ravens. Evermore.
Music in my car: "My, my, my, it'a a beautiful day/I like dancing with Marie/She says she doesn't love me/but she likes my company/guess that's good enough for me."
I can't find a car wash so decide to risk washing it with my purple bucket and sponge on the street outside my apartment. I could get evicted for this, according to Randy. I'm such a rebel. It's hard to wash in the heat; the buckets of water I throw on it steam off and the soap leaves streaks before I can splash them off. It's not a perfect car wash, but it's better. And the crow's marks are gone.
Phil comes out to smoke and keep me company. He's taken love-life advice from Sean (bad idea) and tells me again about his lost soul-mate. I tell him Mike wants to see me. He asks me what kind of guys I like. "Nice ones," I should have told him. Instead, I evaded the question; it's too much to explain. But I know better now. He's going surfing and offers to take Jane and I with a day's notice. He likes sugar cookies, I remember from my Christmas baking.
Because of a crow,
I am here.
Because of a job,
Dad is miserable.
Because of a grief,
I found friends.
Because of the timing,
Life is different.
Because of a headache,
I learn.
I learn to stop asking for "becauses." I learn to remind myself of this; and have faith "just because." I remember telling Rick I must have gotten sick because I needed to slow down and take care of myself. "Why weren't you?" I thought I was, but apparently not, since I needed reminding. I start to believe life has a plan guided by something larger. Perhaps the signs are written in poop on the top of red cars.
I am here.
As I walked to my car this morning, with my load of laundry to drop by my mom's as I picked up the directions to the desert, I heard something, "Splat, spit, splat!" A visual accompanied the noise: giant white glistening spots on my already dusty red car. I looked up at the bird with amused frustration, "Crow! Go away!" It just sat in the eucalyptus tree admiring it's handiwork on the roof of my car. I laughed.
The laundry barely fit in the trunk. It's been getting a little out of control; I've been too busy playing. Without some sort of structure at work, the possibilities for days seem endless: hiking, swimming, biking, writing, baking, driving, visiting, reading, etc. Any number of distractions. The urgency I'd momentarily shed in Spain is back. I'm squeezing everything out of the seconds I have here, not so much afraid they'll end anymore. Just a feeling of constant expectation in my chest, "What's next?"
I hold up fine until mom asks me how I am. I want someone to play with me today. Not just anyone. A happily every after someone. I mourn briefly and brush the tears behind my sunglasses before telling her about the crow and my entertaining Sunday with Jane and Dad. Dad and I watched the drummers at Balboa Park. I laughed and he smiled. I think he's forgotten how to laugh and feel it. I remember. The dolphins taught me again the other day.
Early yesterday, Jane and I giggled as we ran along the beach intimidated by the waves and the abundance of surfers. She said they looked like a herd of wildebeast and I laughed so much we didn't need the bike bells to alert people as we rode up behind them. I dove in our pool when we got back and came up sputtering, "cold!" The three of us grabbed burgers. Dad and I drove around, him afraid he's going no where, me enjoying the wandering. He left and I couldn't fix him.
When he left, I went to check in with Jane who was furious with Sean telling her girls couldn't do anything. Ben and Bob and Adam had taken her bike and the sunset promised to be amazing, so we extracted my road bike from my closet of forgotten toys (backpack, sleeping bags, snorkels, fins, frisbees, etc) and she took my cruiser so we could chase the light. We made dinner when we got back. She likes the corner lemon bars. I ate enough salad so I didn't have to take my vitamin K pill last night.
It's hot today as mom and I catch up on her used to be brothel steps outside her apartment. The pictures she's showed me of the desert might be enough. I'm not sure I'm keen on leaving the water today. Plus she says her boyfriend might take me out surfing this afternoon so I get to try out the water and my new wetsuit!
And I might have time for a bike ride. Riding my road bike yesterday, I rememberd how fun it is to go fast and have real gears and brakes on a bike. One rotation of the pedal sent me flying; I like efforts amplified. I could go for a bike ride now while the rest of the world works and doesn't crowd the bike trails. I don't want to run over small children like mom almost did yesterday. I'll go fast until I have my own; they I'll get one of those bike seats and ride with them. Helmets all around. "Cosco" in Spanish.
I could visit my cousin and hold her babies or play with her little boy, but I might not be back in time to play in the waves. And it makes me remember that I want my own. Some other time. Plus there's the crow.
Szilvie says the word "shat." It's the proper tense and everything, but it's a funny word. I think of Poe and his Ravens. Evermore.
Music in my car: "My, my, my, it'a a beautiful day/I like dancing with Marie/She says she doesn't love me/but she likes my company/guess that's good enough for me."
I can't find a car wash so decide to risk washing it with my purple bucket and sponge on the street outside my apartment. I could get evicted for this, according to Randy. I'm such a rebel. It's hard to wash in the heat; the buckets of water I throw on it steam off and the soap leaves streaks before I can splash them off. It's not a perfect car wash, but it's better. And the crow's marks are gone.
Phil comes out to smoke and keep me company. He's taken love-life advice from Sean (bad idea) and tells me again about his lost soul-mate. I tell him Mike wants to see me. He asks me what kind of guys I like. "Nice ones," I should have told him. Instead, I evaded the question; it's too much to explain. But I know better now. He's going surfing and offers to take Jane and I with a day's notice. He likes sugar cookies, I remember from my Christmas baking.
Because of a crow,
I am here.
Because of a job,
Dad is miserable.
Because of a grief,
I found friends.
Because of the timing,
Life is different.
Because of a headache,
I learn.
I learn to stop asking for "becauses." I learn to remind myself of this; and have faith "just because." I remember telling Rick I must have gotten sick because I needed to slow down and take care of myself. "Why weren't you?" I thought I was, but apparently not, since I needed reminding. I start to believe life has a plan guided by something larger. Perhaps the signs are written in poop on the top of red cars.
posted by S. at 12:12 PM
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