i missed two thanksgivings. one of which i was supposed to host, and had spent hours getting ready for. furniture moved, rug purchased, rugs cleaned… I’d even been writing about what it means, how much it means for me to be a host, to be a table upon which sustenance is served.
but no. instead, i host (still) a withering soul-destroying cough, granny panties for all the pee, and a fixed need to look into the colors of my own mucous.
i deeply missed seeing my family. touchstone moments for me, these yearly traditions, set me aright in identity and history. Too much of my own mortality at stake in not having these sightings and sit downs. Found myself enraged and trying to figure out how to be present there without anyone seeing me. Sent five dishes of food, much help if not all help given by the lovely bob. So many sighs.
And now I’m sitting here, back on the sofa, feet curled up and a few books read. Not read well, mind you, because i’m not entirely connected to my brain. Somehow ‘Gift from the Sea’ showed up on the floor nearby and so I’ve broached it yet again, and the slow down is immediate. And the withdrawal from the phone, and the recognition of how my brain is changing with all this immediacy of interplay that the phone gives. It is a mindlessness. And there is a part of me that is actually gravely concerned that I really do need to give it up in order to maintain my personality, the enjoyment of the ways in which my brain hops and sizzles on the skillet.
It takes me away from the slow, pulls me into a here-and-now that is somewhere else. If I need to stare out the window for ten minutes, can I do this without reaching for the phone to tell someone or to check something that occurs to me? I’m not being overly dramatic when I say it is changing something in me. And I’m not a fan.
And i’m done now, here. for today. I’ve got some reading to do. and maybe a little thinking, maybe some random staring. I’d wink at you if you were here.
love you much, shout out from the sick bed,