Friday, November 30, 2012

here now

The artisans of the world fish the river banks and sell the fish in town. They work at the local convenience store and farm the earth. One made some new bracelets yesterday, talked to her sister on the phone. Some flyers are going up, announcing a show. That guy you know, he created the shirt on your back. How cool is that?


We are everywhere, the creators of this space. We color every day.



What was this notion?


I have wondered what it would be like to have synesthesia where my taste became music, a smell a color forming into a particular shape. Maybe a wave would be yellow, seeing an old friend a brilliant blue. Red in your passion for food. Some days could be splattered, some nights in purple.


That day we slowed down to look.




I finally call her on her vacation though I assumed she needed a respite, a time to get away from all the need.


She answers.
Kim, I shout like my house is on fire.
What? She returns my volley for volume.
When are you coming back? I tone it down just a bit.
Once again she gives me her itinerary though I remember, I know all that. I was just saying we need you.
She laughs. Mark said something was missing in our lives. The phone wasn't ringing.
Tell him I did good. I waited till Thursday.


I tell her two funny things, the kind of things you tell a close friend. Two laughs she gives me.
She sounds good, relaxed, happy.




The day, it is a swirl of pastels, an aroma of garlic and onion and berries. It is gossip in the grain, a bulldog smelling like a baby. A green Mr. Clean, someone asking for directions. It was a bright white light, rows and columns of Greer's grocery.



Give yourself a Christmas present. My suggestion.
Take a day off work.
Plan a dinner for your family.
Clean the house.
Set a nice table.
Play your favorite music.
Give your dog a bath.
Talk to a friend.
Make plans for a future.









Today I am so very grateful for time to relax.




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