Cupped hands of abeyance.

There’s a dream that I see, I pray it can be
Look cross the land, shake this land
A wish or a command
I Dream that I see, don’t kill it, it’s free
You’re just a man, you get what you can

We won’t have a thing
So we’ve got nothing to lose
We can all be free
Maybe not with words
Maybe not with a look
But with your mind

You’ve got to choose a wish or command
At the turn of the tide, is withering thee
Remember one thing, the dream you can see
Pray to be, shake this land

We all do what we can
So we can do just one more thing
We won’t have a thing
So we’ve got nothing to lose
We can all be free
Maybe not with words
Maybe not with a look
But with your mind

But with your mind

But with your mind. With Cat Power in mind, filling my mind. Cat Power is a very reassuring lady. If we were friends I think I would be a little scared of her, but would admire the hell out of her demeanor. I wish I was more like her sometimes. Just now I caught a fleeting smell of roasted potatoes browning in the oven and as quick as it came, the wind changed on a dime outside of the window screens and took it. But I know the smell of roasted potatoes as sure as I know the smell of my closet, of a new baby, of my mother. My disposition leaves a little to be desired today. It is a good thing I spent the day in complete silence in the house I grew up in doing quiet things. I didn't even have the energy to write or to ride my Surly or to clean it the way it deserves. I just sat, sad. Very sad today.

I read Beth's blog and cried because I understood completely when she spelled out the words d-e-a-r-a-c-h-e that the rest of us were too timid to write. It is okay to dearly ache sometimes. I am dearly aching as I write, right now, rightfully so. It is okay. Thank you Liza for acknowledging this, for writing it at least and warranting my own heavy heart by doing so. I dearly ache for you and have been for months now. Hi, I miss you. I am dearly aching for Mel's kitchen filled with the faces of the women that I love savagely, wine glasses in hands, open mouthed laughter, hands skittering around steaming plates. I dearly ache for JJ's kitchen filled with things that I wished I had the insight to decorate with, with Richard's presence (what a man), his crossed legs at a mint green table, JJ running around with an apron (girl after my own heart) and a fresh mountain of french crepes. I dearly ache for the yellow light filling an ageless beauty trailer that was my home for a flash in time, for give up pants and candy and so much laughter coming from the most beautiful mouth I have ever seen, for the pure and clean joy that came from watching someone doing nothing at all or doing something important, or while cooking or working, simply living in front of my eyes. I dearly ache for that joy.

Now I am quite pathetic (my mum will read this and tell me not to use that word) in my sister's childhood bedroom tucked in between the two single beds that take up majority of the square footage of the room as blue as the Indian ocean. It feels so weird to be home again (and yet not home at all in a home that was once my home). I guess this goes to show that my community is real and quite important, and quite a ways away from here. In a few weeks, the stone of the fiscal year will be in motion and rolled away from this dark cave of limbo and the strings of my life will begin being plucked at and pulled like a harp. Forward motion music, just from living and doing again. Limbo is an interesting place. I dearly ache for a normal lifestyle again.

I am scared that I will not find a job that I like. I am scared that I will not find a home that feels right. Change thrills and terrifies, simultaneously. I am in midair. The only thing I know is that we are having roasted potatoes for dinner, beyond that there is nothing certain.

Which is okay, if not good.