Wednesday, August 10, 2011

From a letter to a friend:

Most days, now, I feel pretty good. I’m happy being back in my old neighborhood where so many of my friends still live. This urban ‘hood is humming with life, and I am sustained by the pulse of the universe it contains, and the genuine human friendliness of everyone I meet – both friend and stranger. What a gift that is.

But then, out of nowhere, that immense grief comes and knocks me down, and I have to sit with it for a while, let it do its time. I hate it.

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Clenched, anxious, waiting on courts and banks and funeral homes.

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On another note, I had to reroute my pumpkin vines around the fire pit. They seemed inclined to grow directly into-and-over it. Bad pumpkins! Urban gardening, by the square-inch.

And hundreds of tomato blossoms, a dozen or so actual fruits. Sun, wherefore art thou?

4 comments:

  1. Oooooh, you're going to have tomatoes that have flavor and nutrition, and you'll have them by the thousand.

    If I had anywhere to plant tomatoes, even a place to put pots in which tomatoes could be planted, I would!

    Love, C,

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  2. I can relate, T. All is good, then whammo: big giant grief. You have much to grieve over and I expect it will take some time. You are right to sit with it - -it is the only way to let it work its way through and out.

    I watch you and am comforted that these painful messes can be successfully worked with and that life does indeed get better. You are living proof, my dear.

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  3. Foxessa, at the rate this summer aka winter is progressing here, I'll be lucky if I have them by the tens. Although last night I dreamed that I found a bunch of ripe ones hidden high up on the trellis. (I wish.)

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