27 Wayside Road

In my Nana's chair with it's special cushion, I've spent more time here in this past week than I have ever in my 23 years.... I miss her here. Never have I visited this home without her sitting in her lazyboy in the corner, her cute smile. She asked me in the hours before she passed, " Do you think Obama is going to win?" I said, "Do you Nana?" She fell away again, speaking to her late husband and her friends, singing Irish tunes... and when she came back to us she said, "Obama's going to win." And I said, "Yes, Nana. He is going to win." And now, today, my hope is that in her last hours, I didn't lie to her. She passed, October 22nd at 9:40 a.m., I was down the short hall, sleeping next to my cousin in the bed my mother slept in with her sister. And I write with the desire to remember. Everything. Her peaceful passing, her full and joyful life, her strong and adorable character. My Nana Banana. I love you more.

silver circles

finally falling in love again... with the silver circles someone painted on the side walk, all up, and all down these neighbors streets, i walk every night now by myself, and every day, by myself, to find leaf imprints stamped crevices , concrete poured one day, the leaves rebelling in their color change and fall,
i explained to her, my new friend i translate for, that that's what we call these months, coming, and i'm finally falling in love..... with the largest gingko tree i've ever seen, i can walk by every night now, passing the old women, lovely wrinkles and mykeys bounce in my pocket, a klinket to someone else's sounds, recorded, now filling my ears, i make music with them, and perfectly manicured lawns, i decide who tends to them, all happy people, with babies, and partners, and i walk alone, with bright feet and a meditteranean feast in my belly, i ate alone, after a swam alone for hours and when the boy, he and i met eyes, he wanted to fill my aloness and his aloness and i fell in love.......with being alone and rode home by myself. blissfully content.
for today.

a new freckle and coffee kahlua

my sister told me i had a lot of freckles a few days ago.. which i somehow had never seen. now i see new ones arriving every day, taking over to form huge masses of browness.these tiny pin points new to me like this gray hair and these wrinkles. i'm getting old.my body hurts from physical movement. but it has been a long day.... the best day in weeks. FINALLYyipeee i was able to enjoy being alone. but i suspect anyone would could,riding around all morning ona jetski, saving people from the center of the lake. having been lost for an hour it made my team feel purposeful. i was out to find these poor souls. the second version i've ever seen of me, and my legs, her partner looked just like mine, when he was mine,they were visiting the family.. and i rode away, convincing myself.I'M SO HAPPY tobe alone. choose my day. be here. in michigan. right? there are moments. and today they lasted more than seconds.
one day,
i won't have a bum thumb and i'll have all gray hair. i see that in my future today. and one day drinking coffee and kahlua at 10 am. wont' be out of the ordinary.and one day i will write about something other than myself. i see that too.

mY first blog procrastination

I say it is my first but it's certainly not my first... time sitting in this chair. I remember to be so comfortable or I believed it was along with my other four siblings we would race to beat for our tooshies to watch zach morris and lisa turtle. two of our tiny bumms would fit here together. my dad says "that chair's gotta be 30 years old" but I tell him we bought it for him, a father's day I remember and I'm only 23. although I've been convinced that my memory is a burn victim of old photographs and charted night dreams. I don't know what really happened.. I just convinced myself I saw the dog taken away by some farmers in a red truck. Apparently I was at school when Valentine was put down. this poor old chair has lost it's marvel and it hurts my neck like an airplane chair, I sink into it getting closer to a crooked spine, with rubbed away arms that feel as gross as they look. They don't make em' like they used to. you sorry old lazy boy, your red-brown counterpart looks at you scoffing... he's probebly 35 years old and the cigerette burn holes haven't even grown. I wonder how he'll get back to his daughter. She brought him here to the beach... but she doesn't come anymore. Things get divviiied in the divorce: friends, furniture, and future holidays. I'm glad my first divorce didn't have too much furniture just a fancy bed that still haunts me.
Back to trying to sell myself to some fools in Michigan. God I hate puters.