“oh, mirror in the sky.. what is love
can the child in my heart rise above
can I sail through the changing ocean tides
can I handle the seasons of my life..

mm hmm.. i don’t know.”

Tonight after the sun went down, I went and exchanged my new cell headset for a CD player and went down to the lake to sit on the rocks with Smokey. He had a few things to say before he swam off toward the dark part of the lake I couldn’t see anymore. I sat there a few minutes, closing my eyes, emotions balanced on my knees. Then took off running, feet slamming into the ground.. hammering on my hip until I was sure I’d beat it into submission. Drove the long way home, one light flickering, ready to go out. New headphones still playing on the seat beside me.

Posted by tee in de la vida, favorites
Leave a Comment | Permalink | Add this to …

What these feel like, these experiences, these places and motions, are chapters. Tonight my fingers are playing with the pages of this one, preparing to close it and then open and dig my heels into the next one. Life, if done properly, is a long, complex, engaging, unpredictable book you can’t put down.

Everyone’s asking me: “oh my god! what will you do?” and “how can you just… do that?” and “what do you mean you’ve got nothing lined up?”

I don’t have answers for any of those. But I do know I’d rather struggle in the short term in favor of an elusive future goal than to sit and rot in mediocrity until my ship comes in. I’m at the wheel, here, and I have that delicious, dangerous, delirious urge again to pull up anchor and sail.

Somewhere out there a blank page is waiting for us.

Posted by tee in de la vida
Leave a Comment | Permalink | Add this to …

When I was a kid, maybe 8 or 9, my mom was a travel agent in Connecticut. She’d bring me to the office when I was sick, had a half-day, during school vacations, and I’d sit in the empty desk behind her and stamp brochures, file itineraries, unfold maps and annoy her boss.

Next door, there was a doll house craftsman’s shop. He hand-carved and painted tiny little miniature furnishings, trims, and architecture details for fine handmade doll houses. I used to beg my mom to let me go over there to watch him work. Once in awhile she’d be so busy she’d just wave her hand for me to run off and go. I was fascinated by the detail in that tiny furniture. Four-poster beds that sat in my tiny 8-year-old palm, the spindles perfectly carved and stained. Tiny fabric pieces sewn together for a 2″ square quilt. Tiny bookcases and kitchen chairs and doors and hardwood floor planks.

It was always dusty in there, there were always tarps laying around, and then at the very end of the room, the display cases with all the finished pieces. He hardly ever spoke to me, but always kept track of me out of the corner of his eye to make sure I wasn’t messing around with equipment. But he never told me not to touch anything, he never said ‘get outta here, kid’. I didn’t really dig dolls, even back then, and I had no interest in a doll house. But that tiny furniture… I was mesmerized. How he had made it look so real. How his carving tools must be microscopic. I thought he must be magic.

That memory flew back in today, for the first time since I left Connecticut 15 years ago, while I was sitting in the hospital O.R. waiting room, waiting for Bruce’s surgeon to come out and let us know how things went.

Posted by tee in de la vida
Leave a Comment | Permalink | Add this to …

This morning I remembered Reno. Whatever about it had faded into the backdrop between work stress and time stress and New Mexico poked back at me and drifted back in line today while I was out driving around. The colors and the shapes and the shadows, the smell and the air and the people and the possibility. I took a deep breath and adjusted my sunglasses, and drove three exits past mine, just because.

Posted by tee in sense of place
Leave a Comment | Permalink | Add this to …

At five:something a.m. this morning, I called the office and left a message saying I was taking a personal day, then curled up tight and fell back to sleep. When I finally woke up, it was 11 minutes before I had to leave to bring the kids to school. Threw a sweatshirt on over my shorts and tshirt, sandals, grabbed the keys and ran out to the car; the three of us being goofy all the way to the opening in the fence where I let them loose.

Driving back, I noticed the mood in the air, the clouds. Almost but not quite cold. Leaves had collected on the streets, already gold and crispy and I guess it must have surprised me because I looked at the date on my cell display. October 10th. Time is flying again. I slowed down just before the turn into the driveway, bounced up over the cement and whipped into place. Sat there for a minute. Then left everything in the car while I ran in and got some grain and some stale hamburger rolls and left again. Back in the jeep, back down the stree, drove down Lakeside, past Windy Hill, past the construction on McCarran and over to Virginia Lake.

I was actually ok with the clouds. They were like thick wool white blankets today. I didn’t bother with the camera. I found Smokey about 300 or so feet along the trail, swimming and kicking and dunking himself like you’d expect a proper goose would. A little bit bigger now. He didn’t recognize me right away. I started breaking chunks of bread off and tossing them out, and he (and soon, others) made short work of it. I got chased by a gang of Canadian Geese, mad that my bread was gone. But Smokey waited there for a minute, cocking his head and watching me. He never did come up on shore, but instead followed along closely in the water, as I walked the length of the lake and around.

Feeling better knowing he was doing ok, I ducked out while he was distracted and came home. And there you have the full cycle of love and letting go.

Later, I stopped at the library and walked out with more books than I should have been able to carry alone. Later still, sitting in the jeep with one of those book and waiting for the kids at the bus stop, I looked up at the wheat blowing and bending across the street and decided that tomorrow I’d give my two weeks notice.

Posted by tee in de la vida
Leave a Comment | Permalink | Add this to …

Just dimmed the lights in the kitchen down to next to nothing, everything smells like balsamic vinegar and coffee. Came back here to the desk in the office, Bob Seger somewhere in the background. Picking at the last of the stray olives and mushrooms on my plate, fighting through ice cubes to get to the last of the iced tea in my glass. Finishing an 8-page newsletter that was due yesterday; I probably need more light.

I drove all the way back to the office to find a scribbled post-it note from earlier today, brought it back here. Text messages from Shane. Emails with viruses. I took five full days in November. Ryan’s homework on the corner of the file cabinet, waiting for my signature. Jazzed over the approaching Leonids. Dryer tumbling. X-rays scheduled Monday. Night air seeping through the crack in the sliders. Thinking about leaving my job and going back to freelancing, being truer to myself. Snoozed an alarm for a bill due. Again. Bed looks good. Did I remember to screw the lid back on the garlic salt?

Posted by tee in freelancing
Leave a Comment | Permalink | Add this to …

Two nights ago, we took Smokey back out and walked around the lake. He followed, little feet bumbling along behind us. We put him in the water, he climbed out and ran after us (just like last time). Not interested. Which was ok, we only went out to try and get him more used to being out there. Eventually, we headed back to the car. But at the last curve, we noticed an area too steep for him to easily climb out of the water. I decided to see how he’d react to that. Picked him up, put him in the water.

He immediately swam around the corner to where there was land low enough for him to climb out of. But then… he didn’t. He just kept swimming. In amongst the other ducks, climbing on rocks, grooming himself.. and just.. swimming. I sat there on a rock for a long time, out of the way, and watched him as he explored the cove, the other ducks and geese, established his territory, and, eventually, made friends. At one point he looked up at me, then started to move forward as if he’d climb out of the water and run over to me again. But he didn’t. He just watched me for a second, then turned around and disappeared behind some rocks. I left soon after.

So now he’s down the street a few miles, soaking up the sun and drinking all the water he can handle. Virginia Lake is a beautiful place, I’m happy he chose to go. I do miss him. His water dish is still outside the glass doors here, and his feed bag is still in the closet in the pantry. I’ll take some food out tomorrow and head down there, see if I can find him. I have to laugh, thinking about how many humans have been there watching, walking the trail, knowing he’s probably run up to them wanting to be pet or picked up or hand-fed. The looks on their faces must be priceless.

Posted by tee in kids + pets
1 Comment | Permalink | Add this to …