Good Morning

I wake in the sirocco warmth of a most comfortable bed.  A fan spins and hovers over the bed and I feel the grace of its cool aspiration.  I find myself drifting on a sea of angels wings.  I am still and silent in this place as the feathers entwine and wreathe to my body, I am caught.  You whisper in my ear that you too feel this stillness that stops you and keeps you from moving.   I ask you for coffee which you pour for me, black, and you hand me a banana as I walk out the door.  Before I have gotten far you text me and tell me you miss me.  And I feel it, this missing you before I even leave the sleepy town you live in.  I drive through the brown countryside as big white flakes of snow dance in the brisk wind.  Geese hover still on the strong boreal breath suspended as their wings remain motionless surfing the currents. Leaves skitter like strange arthropods, racing to beat the ever turning wheels as they rush down on them.  Pools of river iced over in the cold, like a lake, as seagulls careen in the wind.  I drive on, a steady course towards home.

I park my car and enter knowing full well that what is coming.  I try to hide from her fake smile and her snooty face but she tells me directions and I check my feelings here at this gateway.  She wears it all like a mink coat, tacky and ridiculous.  I see her falsity like a sheriff’s badge, shining and bright but made of plastic like  the kind you buy for your children at the five and dime.   And I see my own genuine heart like a shining beacon.  This brilliantly lit nucleus is still like the passing eons of the universe and the silent echoing madness of empty space as I thank her.  I walk away I feel it, I stop as I notice that I am no longer afraid, no longer angry, I no longer care and this vastness is completely indifferent.   I realize I have moved away and beyond.  And I am thrilled with it.

The one person whom I know will understand better than anyone grins big and high fives me until our hands are red and hurt.  We shake them and say ow ow ow.  Yay.  Mom. Yay.  You know what this means, I say, I am finally through with all of this.  I am finally done.  And you know she can have him, terrible lover, dispassionate and selfish and hostile as he was.  Lazy and insecure and self absorbed.  Let her have him.  I laugh I cannot speak it.  What have I traded it for, now after all these months of healing and waiting and rejecting those who would not suit me.  The unselfish and unbridled passion, the slow savoring deliciousness of it.  The kiss that makes me feel like my knees will buckle and that I cannot ever take a whole breath again and when I do I am dizzy with the drug of it. I will always do what I can to let you know what you mean to me, lips say against my skin.  I will mark my perfect shoulder with the signature of your kiss I whisper back.  She told us both over dinner that we are two broken halves brought together again.  I don’t know if this is true but when I am with you I feel this.  All of this. And when I am away from you, in a place where hurricane force winds once tore my sails and left me drowning and broken, I am righted and mended and whole.

I text him and tell him it is like I was living in this perfectly serviceable house with a secret mold problem.  Later when I am forced to move out, I realize how very sick I was, but not until the healing had begun.  Months later I find myself in a cozy log cabin, a large fireplace blazing hot, Navajo rugs and blankets, shining beams and polished wood, a great room a big open kitchen dining room and living room, and a giant loft with a huge cozy bed and as I spin and spin and spin in this house, I say to myself, wow. wow. wow.  I almost say that I love him, but when he texts me back he knows I already did. Without saying the words. We both know that words lack substance, and this substance is thick like honey, but rich like gravy, and cool like a mountain breeze and hot like the steady heat of a warm fire.

Oh good morning.  Oh good morning.



One comment on “Good Morning

  1. That’s so true, isn’t it – that we often don’t realize how sick we’ve been until the healing begins? As always, your thoughtful words are full of meaning and poignant images. Beautiful…

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