 |
| Heather McHugh, Butchart Gardens, Victoria, Canada 2013 |
Imagination makes me large. The constraints of duty make me small.
Jeneva Stone
This morning, the telephone rang too early and the voice of my Saturday caregiver gave me the death knell words that she wouldn't be able to come in today to take care of Sophie. I confess to irritation. I confess to snapping. I confess to internal dramatics -- the I can't go on and I hate my life and This is only the beginning -- before I pulled myself together and got out of bed with a big, grandmotherly sigh (Pray that I die, my Italian grandmother used to mutter, while fingering her rosary beads. Pray that I die). When I later opened my email and saw that my friend, the great caregiver and writer Jeneva Burroughs Stone, had an essay published in the Los Angeles Review of Books, and that this essay was a tribute to Heather McHugh, the extraordinary poet who gifted me with my recent respite week in Victoria -- well -- I took it as a sign. While my literal week away in Canada, when I was taken care of with exquisite attention to detail -- good food, beautiful nature, the ocean, cultural excursions, solitude, real rest and sleep, massage, baths, brilliant conversation, (the only thing lacking, sex) -- is receding, the memory of it is clear, and that clarity is a glass door that leads to possibility. Because of Heather and Caregifted, I now know that respite and the concomitant return to my self is possible, my self is indeed intact. That glass door might be closed to me today, and I might walk around fingering my rosary, pray that I die, but I can certainly look through it. I'm also going to make a peach pie.
Read Jeneva's essay here.
I love Heather because she gave you that gift which allows you not to die but to get up and sigh and make a peach pie and no, I did not mean for any of that to rhyme. It just did.
ReplyDeleteMy husband is here making a peach pie too! I am glad you had that time away and that you carry it inside you now like the promise of peace, if not peace itself. Also I adore the way you let yourself feel what you feel dammit. And I love ms moons rhyme too. :)
ReplyDeleteYou have your grandmother's sense of humor.
ReplyDeleteWell, peach pie is a good thing. It might even be better if it somehow involved sex.
ReplyDeleteI suppose all of us have days when we wonder where we are -- if we're still in there, our real SELVES. Some are probably more justified than others in feeling that way, but still, I think it's a common human feeling. Creating something like a peach pie sounds like a great way to deal with days like that.
ReplyDeleteDamn those expectations! I hate it when I have my day all planned out in my head and something derails it and I am left having to rescramble everything together and I get pissy about it. I love that you confessed your feelings and allowed some light to squeak in and inspire you and remind you of a time when you were taken care of. I hope that pie turns out better than ever.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry your caregiver canceled.
ReplyDeleteDamn it all to hell.
Love.
In some things, having my own model of what is, well, bigger tells me I can do it again. You're already there, and with a peach pie. xo
ReplyDeleteI had to cancel on a patient this week and I have been fretting about it ever since. I hope Sophie's caregiver truly needed the day off.
ReplyDeletePeach pie will hearten you. :-)
"when in doubt, bake a pie", used to say my own grandmother (or northern italian and german origins).
ReplyDeleteSo sorry about the cancellation. It can feel like such a kick in the gut. Keeping yourself intact is the hardest thing. Along with making peach pie. You are my hero.
ReplyDeleteIt is a horrible feeling, I remember. And then I would feel guilty. And then the day would stretch out in front of me, without respite. To be honest it was awful. A pie sounds like a good idea.
ReplyDeleteIt's hard to remember that the primary goal was to drain the swamp when you're up to your ass in alligators.
Way to tun it around.
ReplyDeleteI see bravery in your choice not to spiral down. I am always so tempted to spiral down. I'm glad you didn't. I hope you do not go too long between opened doors.
ReplyDelete