When I look down at you, you are in focus. Your miniature hand clenched around my index finger, tight. What makes you grip my finger? Do you like me? I see your heart-shaped mouth, breathing, little whimper escapes. You make funny puppy sounds, and I smile. I pet your hair. It’s long, you were born with it. What color will it be, can I tell? I bet it will be light like your papa’s. Your eyelids are blinking a little now. Are you awake or dreaming? I want to know what you dream about. Are your dreams all blurs? Your dreams, I bet they’re about your mama. I wonder if you can see colors. Can you see colors? Do you see me upside down like the doctors say? Am I all blurs to you, too? For a brief moment you lock your eyes with mine. For a brief moment I don’t believe the science, and I know you see me then.
Your papa, he is sitting next to us. When you whimper, he looks over. He pinches your cheek. I am not hesitant about him. He is different, his pride is on his sleeve. Your mama is in the corner watching us. She is my best friend, but she is different too. She beams. She is quiet tonight; I’ve never seen her this quiet. She says she is okay, and I wonder what is in her head. What has your head, mama? Her head is high, her stare infinite. I know her thought is you.
The room is yours tonight.
I thought I should write something about Justin and myself. How I ended things. How I kicked him out that night, because I knew I wouldn’t be strong enough the next day. How we spent an hour separating our socks and toiletries and vinyl records. How we fit every last reminder of him into the back of my VW. How for a week the taste of a clementine made me cringe. How I saw his face in every guy on the street in tight jeans. How I changed my Facebook status to read “Single”. How I cried in the shower, in the car, in front of friends. How I couldn’t eat. How I looked at photos of us and wanted to scream. How I watched seasons one through three of Sex & the City just to fall asleep. How I couldn’t listen to music, because it was all too much. How he left a gift on my doorstep, and I returned a friendly thank you over the phone instead of a hug and kiss. How I felt betrayed, disgusted, embarrassed.
But strange, isn’t it? How after three weeks, I feel more relief than pain. That’s how I know I will be okay. I am feeling okay. I am going to be single. Even the word looks scary. SINGLE. Every codependent girl’s nightmare. But I know I have the strength, because I had the strength that night when I stood up for myself. That night I didn’t know how I would go on. How I would stop talking to him. How I would pay my rent next month. How I would tell all of our friends and family. How I would make it through a day without crying over him.
But I did, I eventually did all of those things. And frankly, I’m goddamn giddy about it.
Posted on March 3rd, 2010 | 2 Comments »
I have some resolutions. I’m starting late (there goes my resolution on procrastination):
Write and blog more. Rebuild my website. Chill on the reality television. Be nicer. Start a painting. Read a poem everyday. Knit a hat. Purchase a film camera. Take too many photos. Visit home often. Tone my legs. Avoid pregnancy.
Posted on January 23rd, 2010 | 2 Comments »
Self portrait, January 20, 2010.
Posted on January 21st, 2010 | No Comments »
This is Genevieve Jones.
Posted on January 21st, 2010 | No Comments »
I should watch this again soon. The soundtrack is killer.
I don’t know these girls anymore. Especially the middle one.
I made a short and vague wishlist for the holiday season, sort of for others and sort of for myself.
i) Books. The ones pictured above are special edition hardcover Penguin Classics by Coralie Bickford-Smith. They make me giddy. ii) Neutral-colored apparel – gray, oatmeal, black, more gray. Pictured are the Ultra-knit Weekend Pants from J. Crew. The Jack Purcells are lovely, too. iii) Vintage-inspired textiles. Shams, a quilt, sheet set, throw pillows. I’m not going to link the yoyo quilt pictured above, because it is $498. I’m thinking about making it. iv) A used globe.
Posted on December 2nd, 2009 | No Comments »
