I don't write well in the dark of the moon because my blood moves more slowly in my veins and the thoughts are less electric in my brain.
The golden sun on the sides of the peaks in the evenings doesn't reach out and grab my imagination and the ice covered lake and the rock-slide stream don't sing out to me with songs that make my throat big and tight and raw.
The woodsmoke becomes mundane, the glowing coals to be judged for heat, the pickled garlic just a bite of… Continue
Added by Cita on December 30, 2008 at 7:34pm —
I was quiet today.
I cried a lot today.
I have a 13 year old daughter.
My brain went in circles today.
I felt guilty today.
I think the guilt came on the day she was conceived.
Added by Cita on December 29, 2008 at 11:51pm —
Sometimes there is nothing in the well but dust.
Sometimes my fingers lie still and silent upon the keys and my brain sinks into a despair that cannot be breached by laughter or the look in your eyes.
You asked me the other day how I keep from falling off into that deep dry well where there is not pleasant splashing sound, and I told you about allowing myself to wallow for x-hours and then picking myself up and going for a walk or writing something with hope or laughing at… Continue
Added by Cita on December 29, 2008 at 11:48pm —
I am afraid I would drop it down the sink or it would catch in my hair and go swooshing down the drain with the shampoo.
I am afraid that I would get to camp only to discover that a cedar tree, or a mesquite tree, or a limb of oakbrush would have caught the gold chain and kept it for itself.
I am afraid that it would be in my way when I am kneading bread dough, tucking in my shirt, saddling my horse, stroking your skin at… Continue
Added by Cita on December 28, 2008 at 5:00pm —
"So, what did he get you for Christmas?"
"He got me a black merino wool shirt with a half-zipper from Patagonia."
"And some wool socks and other things... it was all very simple, really."
"Did you have a nice Christmas?"
Added by Cita on December 28, 2008 at 4:52pm —
Sorry, dear, deal with it.
No, I will not fix everything so that nothing hurts ever again.
Yes, I really am going to destroy all of your hopes and dreams before you are 18; after all, it is my job.
Yes, I really do expect you to live HERE and do THOSE chores for FREE.
No, I will not buy that, give you that, or listen when you talk to me like that.
I am sorry you feel that way, but it doesn't change a thing because I am hard and mean and… Continue
Added by Cita on December 27, 2008 at 6:59pm —
The oldest religion in the world is the idea that each of us should strive to "Do no harm," and yet, it is the hardest faith in the world to follow and hold.
Each mouthful I eat, each quaff of living water, each trail I hike, each microbe whose existence I destroy, each word I say, each breath I exhale does harm in some way, rarely outweighing the good.
Look to your men and ask them the hard questions for I did not make footprints on your hearts; they… Continue
Added by Cita on December 27, 2008 at 6:30pm —
I sat by the Virgin River and fed it my Superwoman powers, fed it my tears (though a few more tears were unnoticed in its rush always forward), fed it my control, fed it my past, plucked my feet from its waters when they chilled in my present, and dreamed of a future in which I could move beyond who I was into who I am becoming.
The last time I sat beside the Virgin River, I was reading The Eden Project: Search for the Magical Other
by James Hollis, and the words were just… Continue
Added by Cita on December 27, 2008 at 5:42pm —
He is thoroughly disgusted by the menu: sushi, oyster stew, shrimp cocktail.
So, I make other things, too: red beans and rice, biscuits and gravy, a thick steak seasoned with Lowry's.
We mix wasabi and soy sauce with the ends of our chop sticks, for after all, the sushi is just a vehicle for the burn and sock of the green paste and black liquid.
We dip the pink shrimps by their slick tails in the red sauce and make ourselves sick on too many rich… Continue
Added by Cita on December 27, 2008 at 2:04pm —
Waking up in his arms.
Drinking coffee and writing in the kitchen while we cook... and there is coffee.
Walking into my office to write a prose poem or a 6 or an essay if the mood so strikes.
Meeting in front of the woodburning stove for conversation or vent, or in the kitchen for olives, garlic, and cheese.
A little chore in the afternoon, maybe, and an evening so full of conversation that it fills up the loveseat and the couch.
Baths and bed and books and the dark… Continue
Added by Cita on December 22, 2008 at 9:07pm —
The medications make me groggy, gray, dull, a robot who can do laundry, good basic boring foods, and make the bed perfectly every day.
The best thing I ever did for myself was to eliminate aspertame from my world, the poison that I gave myself, an addict to Diet Coke.
Now I know what works: Sunshine, drink lots of water, exercise, fresh air, regular sleep patterns, eat my sunshine in bright leafy greens and intense reds and brilliant oranges, the scent of citrus on my body… Continue
Added by Cita on December 22, 2008 at 9:01pm —
She is perched on the arm of the couch, an imperious princess with a leggy, modren pose, looking only at me, too much eyeliner smudged with an inexpert hand.
She doesn't look at him, concentrating all of her energy on me, telling me the plot to a movie I don't care about, shifting her body just enough to leave him out of the flow of words.
He enters into the conversation anyway, grinning wryly at the dismissive sweep of her hand when she shushes him, tells him to wait a… Continue
Added by Cita on December 22, 2008 at 5:17pm —
Whatever it is I am saying, I always
need a leaf or a flower, if not an
entire field. As for sky, I am so wildly
in love with each day's inventions, cool blue
or cat gray or full
of the ships of clouds, I simply can't
say whatever it is I am saying without
at least one skyful. That leaves water, a
creek or a well, river or ocean, it has to be
there. For the heart to be there. For the pen
to be poised. For the idea to come.
(She writes… Continue
Added by Cita on December 21, 2008 at 4:38pm —
Why is this evening all about you?
Because you need it to be.
Because today was rough.
Because I promised to ride the storm with you, promised to duck my head and let the dust settle, promised to believe in that day when everyone would be happy for us because of the shine in our eyes.
Because I CAN make this evening all about you.
Because I need you and you need me.
Added by Cita on December 20, 2008 at 8:41pm —
Its all about you, today... its all about you.
I will tell you that I wrote today, that I walked, that I read a book, that I made soup, but then, it is all about you.
I will not tell you that my son called and we fought or that my daughter was hateful or that I waded through photographs from before and that they left me raw and aching, because tonight, it is all about you.
I will ask about your son, ask about your meeting, ask about your shopping, ask about the… Continue
Added by Cita on December 20, 2008 at 8:31pm —
He called me in January to say that he was leaving her, that he was tired of her drug use, that he could not take the spaced out evenings, the giggling beyond control, the hidden bottles of vicodin all over their lives, the constant excuse of pain that made her get prescription on top of prescription
He called me in February to say that she had promised to get clean and they were going to put their thirty year old marriage back together.
I don't know what happened between… Continue
Added by Cita on December 20, 2008 at 4:08pm —
The light has turned to liquid gold and is sliding all around before it cools off enough to pale rapidly into dusk.
He is in town, spending time with his son, visiting his almost-ex-wife with a batch of things she left here on accident, getting our mail, finishing his Christmas shopping.
My 13yo daughter is sulking in the house, her memories of Christmases past clouding her joy in the tree we hiked out to cut together, her father not here in her Christmas present, and… Continue
Added by Cita on December 19, 2008 at 6:30pm —
Why do women need constant reassurance within a relationship?
Why do they ask, "Do you love me?" and then not believe the answer?
Why do women need men to prove their love in a language that they understand... big enough rock, loud enough bling, vows before men, ambition to match the checkbook, the same conversation in the dark of the night ad nauseum?
Why do women circle around the same elements over and over again until the man doesn't know which way is up and which way is down… Continue
Added by Cita on December 19, 2008 at 4:37pm —
He is only 20 years old, but already his life is speeding by at a pace we can't understand as tumors grow at the base of his skull, touching nerves and filling spaces that should be empty; all he wants is the white picket fence, the stroller, someone who rides around in the pickup seat beside him while he checks cows, her warm body beside his at night.
She is homely-beautiful with wide hips and brown puppy dog eyes, a wine cooler in her hand; all she wants is for the cowboy who… Continue
Added by Cita on December 19, 2008 at 3:00pm —
Bible-belt, fundamental, give it a radical twist of no television, no Christmas, no Easter, no pagan roots, no painting the street leading to the football field with all of the other high school kids whose parents indulently know where their kids go.
Married too early, mother too young, books are the keys to the up and away fleeing, freeing, living a life of the word, of the mind, homeschooling with the same fervor she breastfed with, and how long can she keep up the Wednesday… Continue
Added by Cita on December 18, 2008 at 5:06pm —