Okay so I’m suppose to be writing a birthday blog and I’m finding that it isn’t so easy to write. I feel scattered. Maybe it’s that I have so much on my mind. Or perhaps it’s my age. Maybe my brain is starting to sag right along with my other assets. Sagging assets. Hahaha! Sorry. This isn’t going so well.
I’m not feeling very reflective or poetic about my birthday. Having a birthday in December is like throwing a party at Mardi Gras. Everyone is already celebrating. How can you compete with that? My birthday sort of gets lost in all of the holiday hubbub. Yeah. This isn’t going so well.
I’m sitting here in my summer bathrobe with a pooch tucked in against my heart. It’s quiet and calm. The Florida morning breathes lightly, gentle and vacation like. I’m adding my blessings. I’m also adjusting to losses. Epic losses. Life holds all things in one big pot—the gains and losses, the pretty and painful, the whole thing. God, I’m so sick of myself. This isn’t going so well.
This birthday blog thing isn’t going too well. Last night I dreamt of a sailboat and it was tied to the dock. A voice said to me, “What good is a sailboat if it’s tied to the dock?” I didn’t answer but I knew I had to untie the rope and set sail. The thing is I hate sailing. I prefer walking. But sometimes we are required to sail. So what did this dream mean? Am I supposed to be going somewhere?
Mike’s mother is sick. Sicker than sick. Mike is there with her now. Her days are numbered. But aren’t all our days numbered and we just don’t want to face it. We live like we have endless days. Like summertime and youth are eternal. I’m healthy and have this life to live. I’m blessed. I should be more grateful and active but instead I’m feeling listless. I just want to crawl into bed with my mother-in-law and hold her. She’s too precious to say goodbye to.
This isn’t going well. I’m dried up. I have nothing to say.
I have endless miles of white to impress upon. I do. I have endless thoughts and emotions. I don’t however have endless days in which to write my stories.
So, what shall I say then? A birthday blog. Who gives a shit? Really? Don’t we all have birthdays? We expect too much. We’re spoiled rotten.
Shouldn’t I be celebrating every day? Is the birthday thing really necessary? Oh fudge, this isn’t going too well.
What would make me happy on my birthday? What are a few of my favorite things? Puppies, and teapots, and Gumby & Pokey, nice friendly people who say “okey dokey”, crunching dead acorn tops under my shoe, making them pop is what I like to do.
Buzzards and rainbows and pies of all flavors, a friend who will listen and do me some favors, someone who loves me without keeping score, and stays closely by with his ear to the door.
Listening to music while I’m Sunday driving, going in circles and never arriving, feeling as boundless as space and the sea, talking with God as he talks back to me.
Watching the stars blink is better than Vegas, the same stars that made Galileo so famous, feeling a part of ev-er-y thing, makes me so happy that I want to sing.
Eating a donut with jelly and coffee, walking a mile so I won’t be a softy, watching a movie that gets in my eyes, hiding my face so they won’t see me cry.
Blowing a straw sleeve across at my daughter, watching her flinch with sur-prise cause I got her. Laughing while showing my gums and my teeth, ducking the straw sleeve that’s aimed back at me.
Writing down words all jumbly and noisy, letting them spill out like milk on a doily, killing the editor and hiding his corpse, living wide open without any doors.
Stupid song lyrics that wiggle and hover, making me wonder if I need a doctor, to cure me of this so no one will know, that I’m a crummy poet without any clothes.
Whew! Glad I got that out of my system.
So ends my birthday blog. Thanks for indulging this old girl for the moment. It’s been a rough week. And by the way, I was sober when I wrote this. Big mistake. Anyway, when your birthday rolls around (and it will) I promise to be, the sort of friend who listens no matter what you say or sing.
Happy Birthday to me.
This didn’t go so well.