Monday, May 26, 2014

in the early morning

5:20: Owen Cricket wakes to nurse
5:30: He drifts back again
5:31: I'm tiptoeing down stairs, putting water on to boil
5:36: Tea. Hot. Honey. Milk.
5:40: Shit! Facebook. I should never go there first thing in the morning
5:45: But, oh. These funny emails about Eudora Welty and Grace Paley. My book group just read them. We can't seem to let them go. Oh to be as nutty as Eudora or Grace.
5:50: The friend I can't stop thinking about, who just had her second-born, is wondering how one finds time to write with two. Time to write with two....time to write with two...I remember being desperate for camaraderie, solidarity. Thus: Erdrich's The Blue Jay's Dance and a slew of mother-poets I went in search of (Sharon Olds, Beth Ann Fennelly). Today I'd recommend Grace Paley, so that one remembers their humor and their sexuality. Those were somewhat desperate days.
6:00: Oh sweet tea. Caffeine's coursing. That newborn whose birth brought about that desperate search for solidarity/camaraderie will turn two in six days. Two! Two years ago today I was writing this, and this, and this. That was a time and a place.
6:01: Oh how I wash my soul, every day, in the eggshell, almond, beach-salt skin of their wily limbs.
6:02: They're still sleeping. Everyone is still sleeping. What on earth will I do now? What oh what, in these sweet quiet moments, will I work on now?
6:04: Oh, daughter. Hello. Good morning. Thank goodness. Your friendship and your beauty. What adventures will we embark on today??

PS: Michelle, I want you to know that two days ago I printed out the manuscript of stories that I began six years ago. Six years ago! They're not finished, but they're very close to finished. Time accomplishes amazing things.