I met a friend for coffee this morning, I was not on much sleep, my days have been busy with writing, work, finding gifts, reading, planning, talking, dreaming, walking. We caught up on our lives and he invited me back to his place to look at some original artwork of his, colorful and imaginative paintings, oils on canvas dating back fifteen years or more. He let me pick out seven of them, and the rest he says he is going to destroy. I gathered they served their purpose. I know better than to try and talk another creative soul out of destruction. I thanked him profusely as he rolled up the canvases and placed them in my arms. When I got home, I tacked every one to the white walls of my apartment, many of which needed some meaning. The counters and floors are now cluttered with holiday gifts which need be wrapped. The air smells of Sumatra I have been roasting for my brother and sister. Why would I call her a sister-in-law, when I can simply call her my sister?
|sunset at Walmart|
A storm is coming and the rain here will turn to snow in the Sierras, and I will be following its tail to Lake Tahoe, with all of these gifts for my nieces and nephew. Star Wars watches and piggy banks, Hard Candy makeup and alphabet stickers and bling, jump ropes and soccer balls, silly Xmas tee shirts. I really had fun shopping for the kids. Tomorrow I will remember how to wrap a gift properly. Today I will get on my bike, in the rain, and ride up north on the river. I am making a couple hours a day for my novel. I take my chances for naps, and find myself waking from strange dreams to my cats and the sound of the heater. The cats they curl up on the bed, and listen to me recount the stories of my dreams. Or else I stretch and I sing to them. I will kiss them and get out of bed. I cherish the lives alongside my own.