m Celtic Cross Celtic Cross - Average Everyday Sane Psycho Supergoddess

April 10, 2005

The Wheels Never Stop Turning under the Big Sky

Spent this past weekend with my parents. Although my childhood home is no longer my home, it feels safe and welcoming, a place where I never have to worry about being confronted with nastiness.

D and I drove down Friday night and spent both nights under quilts made by my grandmother, gone since I was 8 months pregnant. She knew I was going to be a mother and was so happy about that, couldn't fight long enough, though, to be here to greet him. She's with Grandpa now, and for that I am glad.

Few temptations as Mom & Dad are watching carbs as well, I ate good food made by my little mama and didn't have to feel guilty about it.

I got to see my 93 year old Grandpa for the first time in 16 months. I know he won't be around for much longer, so I had to make the trip. He live in Missouri and it's quite a long haul. D travels so much better now, the trip was painless. Grandpa was pleased to see us, marveling at how much D has grown. A tough critic, I was thrilled when he commented on the weight I have lost and how much better I look. He noticed despite his sight which is failing from macular degeneration. Compliments from Grandpa are rare and precious - it's hard to be optimistic about things when you're so old that all your friends have left you, your wife is gone and everything hurts, but you have nothing to send you along. He's so ready to go. He told me, as we hugged me goodbye, that the next time I see him might be in heaven. I said that would be ok, I'd miss him until I get there.

That night, at midnight, I stepped out onto Mom & Dad's deck, greeted by a peaceful and crystal clear night. They live out in the country, where there are no lights to obscure the view, the entire milky way and stellar monster sky pulling me in a way that the force of gravity seemed to lessen. After several minutes of my head thrown back, I laid down down on the floor of the deck, taking it all in. The stars were amazing, and I picked out each constellation I could name, searching for the ones that were escaping me.

As I lay there, I pondered a million topics, from aliens to heaven, from my shrinking shape to my marriage and the strife I deal with all too often, from the possibilities opened up by newfound independence to the fears and the battle with denial and temptations, from San Francisco to Burning Man. It was tremendously cleansing as I whittled away at some of the mysteries and conundrums that I face, we all face. I have to be honest with and true to myself.

What a breathtakingly beautiful sky it is. I've been told that it is much like that when out in the desert. How far does it go? Who else is exploring the same view at this moment? It was so quiet, too...the only thing I could here was the chirping of the bugs and the sound of my own heart. I had forgotten how different it was from the city, where noise is a constant you drown out, and the stars are masked behind a haze of light and who-knows-what.

We went to Grandpa's empty house, and picked up all of the 1000 limbs (no exageration, I would guess) that had fallen from the trees. D took great joy in gathering the biggest limbs he could carry or drag. I took a picture of the house, and noticed that my sandbox, the one made out of an old metal washtub, was still there next to the stoop. How many years, and it isn't rusted much. I think I'll ask mom to bring it home so I can bring it up here and put in in my garden.

We poked through some of Grandma's things and made sure that there wasn't much valuable left since some neighbors had had break-ins and they had seen a strange car here. I got some beautiful beads, a particular 3 teared number swathes the neck in crystals, making me feel like Mae West in the mirror. Grandma's mother's name was Mae West - short for Anna Mae, but I felt like the one who was famous outside of Schuyler County. Next time dad comes down with his truck, I'll be getting a beautiful wardrobe and dresser from Grandma's room. They'll be treasured.

I got a picture of my grandma, at I would guess around 14 years of age, sitting on an old milk cow with her little brother, Harvey, in front of her, and her sister Lelah on the back. They're all grinning like silly kids. How I love to feel the way those grins say they do.

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