It was this moment
that I fell in love
all over again.
I watched him slyly check
my growing wildflower bouquet
for colours and flowers
so he could fill in the gaps.
Then, as he bent to pick out some yellow,
I looked at the muscles in his arms,
the flecks of grey in his hair,
and the pride he takes in making me happy.
I thought of how present he is in fatherhood and in love.
It was this moment
that I was filled with warm, liquid gratitude
for this love
this life
this man.
Because I feel quiet and stuck today.
In need of on old fashioned
strawberry social with long dresses
and big sun hats in an open field
I will call them Anne days.
Days I wish I could roam dirt roads
and link arms with my beloved Anne of Green Gables.
These words, my own words,
bring me comfort on days
like these.
Journal Excerpts
Originally posted June 3rd, 2007
the air smells like lilacs and fresh laundry. this
weather pleases me and makes me crave fresh vegetables
that still taste like the earth from which they came. i
am happy to have so many whispering trees around us. i
envision a seating area under the eldest of our trees. i
see lanterns and wind chimes and many-read books.
i have rediscovered the joy of a yard. it is quite like
having a cottage. i sit out in the hot sun for a little
too long and eat nothing but cold food and water. this
weather makes me want to reject television and the
computer to write endlessly on thick white paper.
rediscovering the therapy of handwritten thoughts.
i have a purring cat on my lap and look up to see two
puppies becoming grass stained while disrupting dandelion
fluff to flight. our older dog looks wiser now and sits
contently by my chair in the cool grass.
i lay awake at night painting pictures with words in my
head. paralyzed with impending sleep, i assure myself
that i will remember these pictures upon waking and write
them down then. i rarely do.
yesterday, we woke to find a lifeless bird outside of our
bedroom door. feathers were everywhere. soft and gray.
i though of the horrible death it must have died at the
whim of our fat selfish cats. i do know and understand
the laws of nature, but was saddened by thoughts of her
wondering mate.
later that same morning, i caught movement in the corner
of my eye and turned to realize there was a mourning dove
flapping wildly in the office. as i tried to think of
how to safely get her outside, one of the previously
mentioned fat cats, came out with the terrified live dove
in her mouth. she had a dangerous and defiant glint in
her eye. i grabbed them up and moved the drama
outdoors. i managed to get the dove out of her mouth
and carried it away. i held it and spoke softly until
both of our hearts slowed. i was sure she would die
from shock, but i began to check her wings and legs to
make sure nothing was broken. droplets of blood smeared
her silky gray feathers, but it seemed superficial. i
decided make her flex her feet in an effort to snap her
out of her state. within seconds she flashed her wings
and made the sound they always make when taking off. i
watched her fly across the street and up into the safety
of a tall tree there.
i often wonder if human kindnesses travel through the
animal kingdom. if word gets back to the fairies and
gnomes. perhaps they cast spells of protection who care
deeply for their own. why just the other night i saw a
bumble bee drowning in the water dish and rushed to his
aid. when i plucked him out, i felt his little bumble
bum vibrate against my finger tip. he could have stung
me,but through some unspoken wisdom i hoped he knew i was
trying to help him. i would have understood as he was,
after all, likely very angry with the water for tricking
and capturing him.
the day fell into a buttery haze. the type that makes my
skin glisten and slide. sweat pools in the hollows of
this landscape. my freckles more prominent. long hair
sticks to the nape of my neck.
i think of old kitchens with layers of sticky cream
coloured paints and wooden tables. the ones i imagine
exist over cafes in paris. sweltering and sultry
telling aromatic tales.
if i were to write a book, i would call it 'a life
imperfect'. i have not lived a perfect life, but i have
come to love the imperfect, mismatched, and unplanned.
within imperfection, i find my perfection my truth my
essence.
yesterday we went to a small town and browsed the tiny
shops. we went to one shop called the gypsy closet
where she had books about seashells and leather bags.
she played enticing music and told us
about a foreign film called 'all about her'.
in another store, i found a lovely powdery blue metal
chandelier which would hang perfectly in one of our trees
as i often speak of chandeliers in trees.
i have been stolen away into a the world of antiques. i
don't mean the restored and perfected ones, but the
rejected and scarred ones. i used to buy pictures and
items that went with the decor or theme, but now i pick
only the items which speak to me. the ones that tell me
their stories. the ones with remnants of past lives
still attached.
i sit out on the deck, the trees jovial at my arrival and
company. i eat tortellini with rose sauce. i admire the
lovely white flowers that mike surprised me with last
night. i listen to billie holiday and think of all of
the other eras i should have, and quite possibly, could
have been a part of. i have spent a great deal of my
life daydreaming and wishing i were somewhere else. i
imagine fence lines and an old fashioned picnic. making
love in tall hay fields. reading poetry and drinking wine
in the afternoon sun.
do you ever wish that you could give away all of your
belongings with the exception of a handful of beloved
items and start over. rebuild as we see fit.
i am a mistress of escapism. some days it feels as though
it is a curse, but lately, i have been grateful for it.
e.
what beautiful thoughts. so delicate is the balance of shared experience.
I love this line: rediscovering the therapy of handwritten thoughts.Some thoughtless days, I find thst even the rhythmic sound of pen on paper turning out non-words will do the trick.
Posted by: Jen | 06/29/2009 at 02:22 PM
This was exactly what I needed to read today...in a day where nothing would have felt better than just walking from everything, the beauty and realness of your words bring tears to my eyes and a surge of gratitiude and optimism to my heart...
I think I will keep and eye out for a chandelier for one of my trees : )
a.
Posted by: http://mysweetbabu.typepad.com | 06/29/2009 at 06:28 PM
your words make me think anne thoughts. longing for a bosom friend... a really kindred spirit. someone to share raspberry cordials, laughter and good times with. it takes me away to prince edward island. thanks for the journey.
Posted by: jennifer | 06/29/2009 at 06:43 PM
i love love love the idea of Anne days. your poem gives me chills! as i listen to the Anne books, i will have to craft what my Anne days will be like. i sure hope they are filled with friends, long dresses, and strawberries. thanks for your words, cousin!
Posted by: Katy | 06/29/2009 at 11:24 PM
wow
i almost feel like
i've been peeping into someone's journal
but i wasn't peeping
you invited me in
thank you
thank you for sharing your eyes
your love
your life
Posted by: elizabeth | 06/29/2009 at 11:26 PM
the rejected and scarred ones!!!!!!
we are a tribe, all of us rejected and scarred ones. that's how i feel. and we have been underdogs for so long, but maybe things are changing?? deep inhale and hopeful sigh with bright eyes.
Posted by: heather | 06/30/2009 at 12:04 AM
What a beautiful tribute to the love of your life . . Erin, you have a beautiful way of capturing the essence of life's mysteries in your words . . words that provoke long lost emotions from within me . . and tears as your words resonate with something hidden deep with me . . thank you for choosing me to be your Mom . . . I am forever honoured and grateful! xoxo MIZPAH
Posted by: Gramma | 06/30/2009 at 06:17 AM
Oh how I love your writing! Thank you...
Posted by: Glenn | 06/30/2009 at 09:10 AM
As always, your words leave me wanting more. You MUST write more. It is your calling. It is "us" calling. Isn't it obvious?
I'm breathing in whiffs of fresh cut grass and gentle blowing breezes that predict the onset of a summer storm. This is my current Anne Day.
Posted by: Lisa Stone | 06/30/2009 at 06:47 PM
Hmmmmhmmm....yes. I love the bit about imperfection...I've been trying to embrace the imperfection. And starting over (possesions) Me too! Anne days...just watched a bit of the series the other day. Like old friends, Anne, Diana and Gilbert Blythe.
Posted by: Heidi | 07/01/2009 at 11:08 AM