banana chee

looking forward to some spicy thai food and banana chee for lunch..

as he headed out the door, the phone rang.
he never answers his phone. never.
but, for some reason, this time he picked up the phone..

hello

and what followed was a request. 

'may i bring Luke to lesson early tonight?'

i have a 5 or 5:30 open, which would you like?

and what followed was a moment which he would never forget all his life.

'Luke has suffered so much with all this death..  you, of course knew his father passed away last year.. and he just lost a friend from the hockey team in a car accident, and tomorrow is his birthday.  i let him go skiing today and told him we could go out for a nice birthday dinner.  i just wanted to share something with you..'

mhm.. mhm.. pause.. ok...

'ever since his father passed, i have tried to get Luke to go to therapy, but he wont.  then one day, he says to me, "mom.. i think i would like to sing."  and i thought, great.. another thing on my plate.  but then his cousin, Jessica, says "I know just the person.. I LOVE MY TEACHER!"  and so we signed up with you.  when my husband was sick, they brought in a music therapist.  my husband wanted Luke to sing for him.  i think it was too much for him.  i asked my father-in-law, who loves to sing, to come and sing too.. and Luke hesitantly joined.  i want you to know, i think you are Luke's therapy.  i want you to know that he loves his lessons with you, and he just loves you.  i hear him upstairs singing all the time.  he lights up when he talks about voice.  you have given him so much, without even knowing.  5:30 will be fine with us.'

..pause..  thank you so much for sharing this with me. i will see you at 5:30 then.

he sits. staring for a moment.  the dogs yapping and scraping outside at the back door.  tears.

i never knew.

"I found the strangest thing in my pocket."

Omg what is that?  It's the broken off key to something.  The key part is still there, but the head of the key is cracked off.   It won't fit on a key chain like that.   What the heck, what does it go to?

 It says Stan.. on it.   Perhaps it belonged to a guy?  There is a wooden box in the bottom of our closet behind the broken microscope and the 8x10 view camera suitcase.  I should dig it out and see if it works.

Cough, cough. It's dusty and rusty and splintery.  I think this box is old. The hinges are leather and the box  has hand chiseled dovetailed joints.

Yup, I need to put some graphite on this lock. It's a bit hard to turn.  Maybe that's how the head got broken off, someone without patience took a hard turn on it.

Dear Reader, you have just as much a clue as to what will be in the box as I do.  We will find out together.


Oh wow, Look at this.  It's sewing supplies and patterns from the 30's and 40's.  The old kind without any writing or directions on them.  Just mysterious dots perforated on the paper.  There is a set of old long bobbins that go to a singer treadle machine.  Look at this, A silver handled wooden sock darner.   A silver tailor's finger safe with no top to it. Do you know why it has no top,  The true tailors do not hand stitch with the tip of their fingers only the side of their fingers, the top would not be necessary, so they don't make them with tops on them.   Look at this, some vintage lace and crocheted collar premades.  They haven't been in style for decades.  What darling things.

A Stief Bear with handmade clothing wrapped up in a Velvet tiny cape.  Look at the small feather felt hat for her head, with ear cut outs on either side.  And a fur muff for her cape.


And lying in the bottom a large collection of vintage calico quilt pieces.  This looks like a starburst pattern that some ambitious needlewoman cut out and never pieced together.  The colors are bright as new being hid away from the sun all this time.

This quilt needs to be pieced together.



 

dust

I found the strangest thing in my pocket

funny thing is, i have no pockets in my boxerbriefs lol

yeah i am sitting here half-clothed..  so im looking frantically around for something to write about. what do i see, an unopened bag of werther's sugar free candies, my glasses which oli took a liking to one day, and noshed little chips in the corner of the lens, my dead tablet, Bessie, and pen.. rip.  headphones from when i used to talk with my sweetheart online, bills, a stack of books.. hm lets see.. i never put back a high wind in jamaica and the good earth.. along with the woman in white, old man and the sea, the great gatsby, babel tower, 100 crooked little crimes, and the space between us..  none of which fit in my pocket.  all of which are collecting dust.

dust.  i wipe my finger across the antique table, leaving a clean trail on the surface.. rub my fingers together and just sit looking at them.  heavy.  particles of sloughed off dead skin and stuff.  weightless and so fine.  dust.  is there any relevance to what im feeling today.. with dust?  if there is, i cant find it.

searches.

slough off the skin.  leave it as dust.. to be swept away. 

i note as i look around.. a lot of dust.  its fairly thick.  i have been lazy and i havent tended to my home..
im up to my shoulders in emotional dust.  i have been careless and i havent tended to myself.  i need to clean up my life.  its very dusty.

slough it off.  shake it.  wipe it.  get out some murphy's and get to work..

blows the dust from my fingers.. and watches it float, suspended mid-air and then disappear.

yep.

{[ Wt..f ]}

Waking up with hair a mess
Half..undressed.

Blue jeans wrinkled
vodka bottle laying sided half empty
cap no were to be seen.

Long streach and a yawn
hand rubbing thumping brain
Eyes wandering the room

Never seen this place..
"Were am I at..?'"

Large blanket lump on one side of bed
quick reaction wanting to run and hide
heart pounding

hand slips down in pocket
finding plastic ripped black wrapper

"God..what have I done.."