The old girl and the sea

I went up to the NH Seacoast today to visit my folks. It was an absolutely beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky, strong sunlight cooled by sea breezes. We had lunch overlooking Portsmouth Harbor, driving up and back from Hampton via the scenic drive along the ocean and on the way back through New Castle, where I'd been kayaking Labor Day weekend. When we got back, I changed into a pair of shorts and a tee shirt and walked down to North Beach. It was low tide so I was able to walk the length of the beach down to Little Boar's Head and back, thinking about things. I came back and we had birthday cake along with this chocolate-raspberry pie that my housemate K had given me, which was delicious. I was sad while I was up there, sad driving home. But tonight I feel better. I've made some decisions and have some plans for plans. And tomorrow and this week lots of work to keep me busy. Oh, and depositing that nice fat check that arrived from my clients on Saturday. Getting income again is such a relief.

9:28:30 PM      trackback [] 

Guessing on the spot what it's about

I woke up dreaming of something wonderful that got cut short, withdrawn, withheld. That huffing puffing sadness caught up with me over the last couple of days and I am trying to shake her off. I gather my energy and outpace her for stretches of the race route, then I get tired and there she is again, smirking. She cheats, interrupting my sleep so that I’ll be weakened. But I’ve trained long and hard, I’ve beat her at this game before, so I’m confident she’ll give up this particular marathon and try again another time.

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Last night Amy and Paul, the couple I house-sat for, took me out to dinner at a nice local restaurant. Amy and I used to go there when she was recently divorced from her first husband; we’d sit at the wine bar and flirt with the bartender and he’d top off our glasses without charging us. But then I set her up with Paul and the rest is history. I remarked to them about the love notes I found around the house, the apology note stuck in the back of the medicine cabinet. They said that’s been in there for years now. They talked about some of the hard times they worked through. They’d simply been motivated enough to work through things and it’s paid off. They’ve both grown. Well, sounds like Paul did most of that! I’ve known him for a long time – not quite as long as Amy, who I went to high school with – and Paul’s a good man, but he needed to grow up some. He admits it and he’s happier than he’s ever been, and venturing forth more in life now. It was his choice anyway. You have to want to change; then someone will come along to help you.

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I’ve had these moments lately of feeling out of place, out of sorts, socially inept, attention-seeking, attention-dreading, overly focused on my own problems and incapable of adding anything thoughtful to some very thoughtful discussions people have been having at various blogs, inspired by (although that’s the wrong word) the 9/11 anniversary. It’s been me-me-me around here and it's uncomfortable. Last night I was reading in Wislawa Szymborska’s Poems New and Collected and found a poem by Wislawa Szymborska that seemed to fit. Here's the beginning of it:

Life While-You-Wait.

Performance without rehearsal.

Body without alterations.

Head without premeditation.

 

I know nothing of the role I play.

I only know it’s mine. I can’t exchange it.

 

I have to guess on the spot

just what this play’s all about.

The rest is here.

9:10:31 AM      trackback []