That I want to call my mother and talk about this heat. I want to talk to her about the drought. I want to talk to her about how we are 12 inches below where we should be. That the earth feels scorched. That it rained today.
Why did I not learn to make her potato salad?
Why was she sitting like a statue on my couch last week?
I ironed a blue pin-striped oxford for my daughter's senior pictures today. I flashed to to an outfit Penny gave her that I ironed for her six-month photo 3 years ago. Six? Ten. Not seventeen years ago.
When listening critically to The Who this weekend, sober, in the daylight and turned to a medium volume, I realized, they suck.
Where has Radiohead been all my life?
I love Jemellia Hilfiger. She is one of the funniest, wittiest, sweetest people I have ever known. I want to draw her close to me like a rag doll. Then slap her away.
I love my body. I am 47 years old. It has looked better but I have never loved it more.
I am almost over my nose.
I do not think it sucks to grow older. Once you have no parents you feel odd, young and vulnerable. I will never say that it sucks getting old.
I want to live and feel joy. Gratitude is the key. Guiltless is the way.
Did I actually fall for a Beck song? When did I start to love Beck?
I say "Yes" to tears and sadness. It somehow brings comforts. It's what lies under agitation and anger.
I will see my Shelley since the first time since mother's funeral. I texted her that I will probably break down when I see her. She said "Good! I won't be the only one!" That is what epic friendship looks like.
