Two very long days, tired and a bit woozy. Missed the last day of November posting, let it drift from my dry hands. Missed one other day when we took Moby in to the vet.
This helped, though. The promise, the expectation, especially the days we worried over Moby. Knowing someone was stopping by, and would wonder - at least a little - if I went silent without explanation. In return, so much support and encouragement.
This space to lay my worries down, such a comfort. Transforming anxiety into creativity and connection.
Sunday night, for the first time, both cats slept on us all night. Both there when we crawled in, neither moved. Moby on Dylan, Eleanor on me. Moby walked up to me, purring loudly, to be petted, right before waking Dylan up in the morning.
"He's my human, but I do love you."
Got to get out for raw poultry to make food for cats this morning. Turkey soup, essentially. A dash of turmeric as a safe anti-inflammatory. A little pumpkin for fiber.
Then a bit of cleaning. We have a rural nurse this week, educational experience, a sort of seminar on-the-job. Had a wave from Blanding a few months ago, but they came in pairs. This one is from Rock Springs, and here alone. We were chatting with her about the holiday and if she'd been to any local restaurants. She was cheerful enough, but couldn't hide the intense loneliness she was experiencing. So, I wrote down my address and invited her for dinner. Since I didn't know how late I would be yesterday (late, as it turned out) we agreed today would be better. Don't know how this will go, just felt I couldn't do nothing.
And this, no doubt from Whiskey River.
THE HEART REMEMBERS EVERYTHING IT LOVED
Everything remembers something. The rock, its fiery bed,
cooling and fissuring into cracked pieces, the rub
of watery fingers along its edge.
The cloud remembers being elephant, camel, giraffe,
remembers being a veil over the face of the sun,
gathering itself together for the fall.
The turtle remembers the sea, sliding over and under
its belly, remembers legs like wings, escaping down
the sand under the beaks of savage birds.
The tree remembers the story of each ring, the years
of drought, the floods, the way things came
walking slowly towards it long ago.
And the skin remembers its scars, and the bone aches
where it was broken. The feet remember the dance,
and the arms remember lifting up the child.
The heart remembers everything it loved and gave away,
everything it lost and found again, and everyone
it loved, the heart cannot forget.
- Joyce Sutphen
7 comments:
how sweet of you! i remember my first dental hygiene job, in a small town a mere 2h away from home but it might as well have been on the moon. people at work nice enough, but the loneliness! oh, the loneliness! i'd savour and enjoy it now, but then it felt awful, and it seemed that nobody had the heart to invite me into their home or their life even for a little bit. until one person did, and now, all these years later, we're still friends. not saying that reaching out is a guarantee of friendship, but it surely is a guarantee of making a lonely soul feel better.
pc,
Been there myself. I've been welcomed in a few times, other times not. I know which helped me deal with life better.
That was kind. I know how kind, because you too are someone who treasures her own time and space and to do this is to give a lot. Did she come?
I think I kept up with all your November posts, even if I didn't always comment. Glad Moby seems to be doing OK.
Lucy,
There was some miscommunication, but she's (hopefully) stopping by this evening.
Moby just went bolting after Eleanor... so, yeah. Improved.
Where I work there are many immigrants, so I hear often about not having people around. I've certainly made an effort to befriend a few of them.
Good of you to help her out.
Hey! Poetry!
Frex,
I thought of you when I posted that. The rare poem that rings in my soul.
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