Of Snow and Blankets
Mazes, fighting, claws, running
I pull myself across the ocean of empty bed between us and slip beneath his blanket, dragging his dead hand across my body. His instinctive reaction is to pull away, but he stretches a little to cover it up. I tug his arm back around me, murmuring into his warmth that I had a nightmare, and he is instantly in protector mode, wrapping me up in comfort.
“Roll over and I’ll hold you,” he says in a voice thick with sleep. I sit up to arrange my pillow. Tendrils of nightmare fall away from me and litter my bed. “Look,” I point. Through the slice of open window I see white. Snow always excites me; happiness like a child when it’s even in the forecast. He smiles a little, pulling me down into place. “I know,” he says, and I slide down to lay against him, my pillow nestled in the crook of his arm. He is asleep again instantly, comfortable and happy to have me in his arms.
And I forget just what it was I was dreaming about.
Traffic
So I’ve been getting a teeny-tiny bit of traffic here lately. It’s directly related to the fact that I’ve been reading other people’s blogs, but maybe I’ll one day build up a little following of my own. Yeah, I’m crossing the line between “Amy’s space to put up shit no one else will read” and “Amy’s constant desire for recognition.” I’ll get over it.
I’m thinking about starting a wedding blog. Most of the blogs I’ve been reading lately are wedding blogs. I’m obsessed right now with my own – in case you didn’t know. Although if you’ve talked to me lately.. you know. I don’t even have a date set, but the planning part is SO much fun! If I start a separate blog for just wedding stuff, then no one who isn’t interested will have to be bothered. Also, it will be a place to send the family to get updates on the process, without necessarily exposing my writing to them. Most of my stuff gets crossposted to several places, but this is the one I consider “private”. It’s not, I know, but I like to think of it that way. (How funny would it be if I just crossposted this blog. “No, YOU’RE the most special of all of them! The only truly original one.”)
My self-worth is a little high today because less than 24 hours after emailing my resume, I got called for an interview. I didn’t go, because I wasn’t expecting it to happen that fast and they wanted me to be there likerightthen. It would’ve been a good job though, so that gives me hope that I won’t end up flipping burgers. The lady sounded excited to have me come in, but yesterday was “the only day” they were interviewing. Sucks.
Oh well, there are actually a surprising number of listings for this area right now. It works out anyway because Eric’s grandmother is staying with us, and his mom asked me if I could look out for her when they’re at work. (Actually, that was one reason I went on the frenzied send-out-my-resume-right-now job listing search, but now it’s too late and I already said I’d help. Because I always say yes.)
Anyway, eventually I’ll put more creativity into my writing and less into planning a wedding-without-a-date, but for now, something has to suffer. I’m not good at obsessing over multiple things. So less crap poetry and more crap centerpiece ideas! Love.
Amy.
three-and-four a.m.
Three-and-four a.m.
hopeless hours
too late for sleep, too early to wake
God, is there anything worse?
Maybe four-thirty-a.m.
Or right before the sun comes up
when the sky gets that rosy hue that
always makes me feel nauseous.
Jaundiced clouds, sick with leprosy,
they start to unravel as soon as the sun bursts through
Diseased flesh decomposing
as the world begins to stir.
If you’re awake at three-or-four-or-four-and-thirty
you’re already outside
You day-slash-night-dream about
orange juice and toast
rushing out the door
sitting in traffic to get to your desk justintime
And all the mundane little
make-you-want-to-blow-your-brains-out details
- business suits and meetings, wpm, irs, iras -
seem so appealing.
This hour
these hours
I always feel empty
literally
something about this time of morning makes my stomach hurt
I’m probably hungry
but eating would make it worse
I’ve been through this hour enough times to know.
Nothing good comes of these hours -
Worry, fear, paranoia, and you forget all the little sweet things
that make you so happy at three-and-four p.m.
I know now,
a malicious witch hovered over my cradle at birth,
her breath, sickly sweet,
carrying her disease,
wrapped around my tiny frame.
- “There is nothing you can do,
I have claimed you as my own,
my three-and-four a.m. child”
How many three-and-four-a.m.s have I spent on a weary laptop
reading, talking, finding other
three-and-four-a.m. children
But at this hour
you are always only alone,
a stale donut from yesterday’s a.m.
with too-pink frosting and pale characatures of sprinkles.
Yes, three-and-four-and-four-thirty-and-five a.m. -
the cocaine hour.
No matter how many years pass,
it’s still the cocaine hour,
I am still the empty vessel at the black desk.
The paint was soft, like wax,
sometimes it came off
and the soft white powder was mixed with soft black paint.
As if that were the greatest of my worries.
Parcelling out my time in lines and bumps,
“Only this much this time, then none for an hour -
or forty-five minutes or thirty-five if I get
a lot of work done
between then and now”
Then it was easy to explain the nausea
the emptiness of three-and-four-a.m.
The cloudy thoughts.
Now, though, no reason,
only my witch’s curse,
my hideous benefactor.
In whose dank image was I formed, putrid Mother?
What demon have you set on my shoulder to whip and torment me?
Your foul breath lingers still in my nostrils
and I am always nauseous
at three-and-four-and-four-thirty-and-five a.m.
At the Library
We’re walking out of the library; I’d had to send a fax. It’s a gorgeous afternoon, and we’re so rarely outside during the day now. I’m walking about two steps ahead of him – I always am, because he always opens doors for me.
There’s a girl walking past us; I don’t pay much attention to her, except that when Eric quickens his step to catch up with me and starts to lean in to say something, I think he’s going to talk about her.
She’s really not that cute. Not enough to catch his attention, I think.
He leans closer to me, almost close enough to whisper except it’s hard to whisper when you’re walking, and we’re still walking to the car. His voice is low, though; it’s a secret.
“You have a really cute butt,” he says, and takes an affectionate swipe at me.
“She has a really cute butt,” I think I hear, but only for a second. I start to laugh and grab his hand, even though we’re at the car and it’s keeping him from going to the drivers’ side.
“I love you,” I say, and I mean it.
From Crisis to Bliss
January is always a slow month for us. Eric always gets off work sometime right before Christmas, sometimes around his birthday, so Christmas is based on whether or not we can save our money through the end of December. We did awesome at that this year, and we saved enough money to have a nice trip to visit my family. We didn’t really save much money for the beyond-the-holidays, so we knew the first two weeks of January would be tight, and they were, but here we are at the end of it no worse the wear.
Well. The bank account could use a little boost, but that’ll be another couple of weeks.
We’ve been really lucky so far with this whole economic downfall thing. I guess it’s because we had already made a lot of downgrades, but we’re not really feeling too much hurt right now. Eric’s planning on having more work this year than ever before and we’re still on track to pay off a lot of stuff this year. And yet.. we get to reap the positive benefits of the current crisis.
Yes, you heard me right.
There are good things happening because of this. For the past 30 years, our culture has become consumed with the desire for MORE. We eat more, spend more, drive more, wear more, waste more. There are entire generations who have no idea of the value of a dollar. We have no concept of what it is to go without, no concept of sacrifice.
The rich keep getting richer, and the poor keep trying to live like they’re just that rich. The media gives us a look into every aspect of lives most of us will never be able to attain. We see the way the “other half” live, and it leaves us filled with dissatisfaction with our lives. And yet, so many of us are still truly blessed with what we have. And we’re going to be taught to appreciate it.
Who *didn’t* experience a downgraded Christmas this year? And out of all of the people who spent less than they ever have on the holidays.. I wonder how many found, like my family, that the holidays were enriched because of the focus on people and not things.
Yes, it is awful when a person who has worked hard his whole life loses everything. I don’t think that anyone “deserves” to shoulder the loss to teach us these lessons. But hopefully it’s a turning point for society. Hopefully our priorities will shift back to our people, our loves – and for god’s sake, maybe we as a people will start to think for ourselves again.
..But that last part may be hoping for a little too much. 
Smoke
I’m reaching for something..
something..
Something I can’t see,
can’t name
can’t reach,
but it must be out there.
Once in awhile
I think I can feel the shape of it
heavy in my palm
light in my heart
and I look to see it
sparkle in my hand
only to find darkness.
You offer it to me,
promise it to me,
tell me it’s already in my hand
.. and you let it drift away like smoke.
All I’m left with
is a handful of broken dreams
like glass.
Is there any such thing as love, anyway,
or is it all just people
looking out for themselves,
mutual gratification for eternity
And just when I think
I’ve found the light
at the end of the..
whatever..
You go and move the horizon.
Visiting the Coast – Christmas 2008
What a long, long trip.
It’s impossible to try to sum up everything that happened while I was on the Coast. It was a really great visit, and we ended up staying for 12 days instead of the 3 we’d planned on.
I am unspeakably grateful to Eric for giving me this visit. He pushed me to stay longer when I wasn’t sure I had the energy anymore, pushed me to take the steps I wanted to take to bring my family back together. Kept me calm for the most part. And on top of it all, he was great with everyone – I was glad he relaxed enough so that I got to show off how funny he is!
We had a great Christmas at my Nana’s, and an awesome New Years’ Eve on Bourbon Street. I reconciled with any family members I felt I had grown apart from. We had way too much food while we were home, and I laughed so hard I cried a few times.
My older-younger sister had us over for dinner, I got drunk with my baby sister for the first time, and with Emily it was like I never left. My new ring was unanimously adored, and we came home with our Blazer absolutely loaded with stuff – even though “no one is doing presents this year.”
The luck of the cars was not on our side. Ashley’s car broke down when I was driving it, I finally got pulled over by a Pass Christian cop (seriously? only now?), and our brakes went out. Not all at the same time, thankfully. Still, it was the best Christmas I’ve had in a long time.. and if I only count the adult ones, not the magical, perfect childhood holidays? Probably the best yet.
Let me say this. Man will never invent a substitute for a true, heartfelt hug from a person you love.
So here’s to 2009. Wishing you rest and hope for this brand new year – and I hope you were able to believe, at least for a moment, that this year will, in fact, be better than the last.
