Sunday, July 26, 2009
waxing crescent
Saw a king snake, a crescent moon, a giant bat (really, like, pizza size), three Harris hawks, four or five families of quail, endless doves, a squashed 'horny toad,' assorted non-squished lizards, miscellaneous jackrabbits... it's only very recently that jackrabbits have started to look long-eared to me. and "regular" rabbits still look small-eared. heh.
i've treasured my time in the desert, in my grandmother's old house where i came hundreds of times over the years... the house has been gutted but the view out each window is the same, aside from the new houses that have sprouted up all over - but the patio and the sky and the mountains are the same. The windows and doors are in the same places.
Many of my childhood memories are uneasy, but there are some that are utterly content. Being up here, the sweet-smelling wind off the mountains (still smells the same - more creosotey than it does in Tucson), clouds in the sky... very carefree. Heart floating on the breeze, tethered to my wrist... I remember standing on the patio with Petra on New Year's Eve, almost 1985. It was so cold and we were trying to watch the fireworks all around the valley... can't see the valley anymore, there's a house in the way... my grandmother used to love to watch the storms come and go across the wide expanse of flat land ringed by mountains, really much wider than a 'valley'... i don't mind that the house is in the way. things change. i don't mind any of the changes here. but i remember. i remember mornings and breakfasts and evenings and starlight and changing seasons and my grandmother. i remember.
it's also been great to spend time with my cousin and his wife... lots of good discussion, politics, family, life... good food... and love.
i spent the day at the hospital today but... my aunt is basically already gone. she looks up with huge, uncomprehending, infantile eyes when spoken to, or mutters without enough thread to grasp any gist, half in French at times. today my cousins decided to discontinue any further treatment and just provide palliative care (reduce pain).
the mix of emotions that all this engenders is... not impossible to put into words but... i don't really feel like trying.
i've treasured my time in the desert, in my grandmother's old house where i came hundreds of times over the years... the house has been gutted but the view out each window is the same, aside from the new houses that have sprouted up all over - but the patio and the sky and the mountains are the same. The windows and doors are in the same places.
Many of my childhood memories are uneasy, but there are some that are utterly content. Being up here, the sweet-smelling wind off the mountains (still smells the same - more creosotey than it does in Tucson), clouds in the sky... very carefree. Heart floating on the breeze, tethered to my wrist... I remember standing on the patio with Petra on New Year's Eve, almost 1985. It was so cold and we were trying to watch the fireworks all around the valley... can't see the valley anymore, there's a house in the way... my grandmother used to love to watch the storms come and go across the wide expanse of flat land ringed by mountains, really much wider than a 'valley'... i don't mind that the house is in the way. things change. i don't mind any of the changes here. but i remember. i remember mornings and breakfasts and evenings and starlight and changing seasons and my grandmother. i remember.
it's also been great to spend time with my cousin and his wife... lots of good discussion, politics, family, life... good food... and love.
i spent the day at the hospital today but... my aunt is basically already gone. she looks up with huge, uncomprehending, infantile eyes when spoken to, or mutters without enough thread to grasp any gist, half in French at times. today my cousins decided to discontinue any further treatment and just provide palliative care (reduce pain).
the mix of emotions that all this engenders is... not impossible to put into words but... i don't really feel like trying.
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1 comment:
thank you for posting, sweetie. i missed that you are there and that she was so close. my heart goes out to you, at home in your pain, with your family.
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