|
My Profile
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone... - 2009-11-05
|
2:10 p.m. - 2006-09-24
The hematite band I've worn on my right hand for the past year snapped Friday night. According to the New Agers hematite bands absorb negative energy and break when they're full. When my ring went to bits Mo clapped and said, "All done!" I looked at my naked finger and said, "Got to get a new one." My friend snorted and asked why. Why? Because I like hematite. Because my right hand is the smart busy one and the smooth hematite bands don't snag on pocket edges as rings with set stones do. Because when I'm writing and stop to mull over what to say next my thumb rubs the groove on my bare finger and misses having something to fiddle with. I got what Mo meant though. The craptastic times are passing and new non-crappy stuff is moving in. Has moved in. You know what's cool? It's all new here but I don't feel lost. Or scared. I'm glad I wrote all that stuff down, looking at my diary from even a month ago is like reading someone else's words. Not my life anymore. I'm not sure exactly when it all changed or why and frankly I don't care. I'm here now and I like it. I am myself. I'm not 'nobody's wife'. I'm not leavings or someone's worst mistake. Here in the now it's amazing and a little creepy that I wore those labels for so long. Maybe I was afraid I'd be naked if I took them off. Friday night Mo was running late. I got to the club about 45 minutes before she did. The music hadn't started yet and it was a bit odd to be on my own. Only because it was the sort place you go with your buddies and not a bar bar where you can pull up a stool and make chat with whoever shares the bowl of peanuts. So I'm hanging out sipping my coke and laying chilly. I'd picked a spot where I had both a good view of the house and the front door, taking my ease leaning against the railing that separated the raised seating area from the dance floor. Eventually Mo came flying in. She spotted me right off and hurried over. Then when she was a couple feet away she stopped dead and said, "Jesus, LA!" I shrugged, "What?" Mo closed the gap, shook her head as if to clear it and said, "Nothing. No, it's something but we'll talk about it later." I nodded and we moved on. We do this a lot. Friend shorthand. Most of the time we even get back to the stuff we've tabled for later discussion. Such was the case Friday night. Later when we were having breakfast and realized we were being rude listening in on the Jamaican women (we weren't listening for content, honest, just gassing on the wonderful lilt and cadence) I remembered to ask her what she'd squawked about earlier. She stuffed a wad of home fries in her mouth and nodded to say, "Okay. Give me a second to frame it." I waited. She swallowed, cocked her head and finally said, "Okay, don't take this wrong because you know I've always thought you were beautiful, but tonight when I came in it was like I'd never seen you before. You were fucking there. All of you! And I was like, 'Holy shit! She's freaking gorgeous!' It's insane how beautiful you are. And it's not just looks, it's coming from inside, you know?" I nodded. "I know. I see it too. Fun, huh?" "Fun? It's fricken fantastic, that's what it is. I know you said you own yourself now, but damn I don't think anybody expected this. You're whole! I am so happy for you! I knew all of you was in there, but you didn't and that used to kill me, you twerp. Now look at you! It's a damn good thing I know how good looking I am or I'd be feeling insecure." We laughed. This little light of mine
|
