It is very strange to have to THINK about walking as in heel-toe-push-off-lift-leg-bend-knee because I have been DRAGGING this leg around for so long and it still has less than half of its flexion or close to approximately half anyway. M will stop me and say lift your foot bend your knee and he sounds just like the physical therapist so HA.
Yesterday I made a big pot of thin thin spaghetti with garlic and herbs and Z and I ate it for dinner and cooking it made me sweaty almost to the tips of my hair even though I wore a bag of frozen peas on my neck while working in the kitchen. Then we watched Guardians of the Galaxy which was really fun and it is nice that my very grown up kid still hangs out with me occasionally, even on a Saturday night. Next week he will be twenty five and this makes me both happy and melancholy. It feels like I was just tripping on legos and playing board games and taking him to the park and then we crossed the tesseract and here we are.
I am making him a pan of gingerbread for his birthday cake this week. Maybe some chocolate cupcakes too, because why not?
time time time see what's become of me
Dearest darling self,
I want you to remember to have coffee on the front porch remember to bend your knee to listen to the crickets with the windows open to read old science fiction novels and new books of speculative fiction and remember to watch the rain and remember to take the time to doodle something on a note card and to color neatly between the lines if it pleases you. Remember to eat your soup out of your most beautiful antique bowl or your favorite mug with a big round spoon. Remember to listen to rice sizzle in hot oil in your wok or to listen to the Pixies or to watch Buffy reruns when you are too tired to do anything else. Remember to write a poem about monsters or aliens or fairy princesses if you feel the need to say things in figurative language and remember to read what other people are writing about for the sheer pleasure of it. Remember to call your mother in law and say thank you to text your sister just to say hello to worry less and find the quiet spaces tucked into your days that ask to be filled with nothing and rest when you need to rest and find the energy for your most important tasks and know that it's enough that you folded the socks and then took a nap. I want you to remember to draw hearts in red ink in the margins of your grocery list and to wear a swirly skirt for no reason even if you are going to be home all day. Remember to be kind to yourself and to everyone else too even the crows and the stray dogs and the random neighborhood children who think you are a scary witch with a limp and stare like hungry jackals. All of these things are both real and unreal and wholly beautiful even in the dark. Remember to let the fireflies light on your wrist without shaking them off immediately.
Blood Pudding Press notes
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