(no subject)
Safe. The first safe place I could remember, in a long time, a place to heal up again. Walls painted pale avocado, black and white cafe tiles, all put in for me. A miniature porch, with railings and posts that must have been scavenged from tables and chairs, faded wood boards, and a chair for me to sit. It looked over a yard mostly shaded by firs and spruces and cedars, with a rock pond filled with frogs, surrounded by a high enough fence that I could sunbathe naked in the grass. In the bathroom mirror I saw myself post-transfusions, not the translucent white pale I'd been used to, but a yellowish white which hid the veins beneath. So this is my skin, I thought.
Safe upstairs in the neighbor's clawfoot bathtub, the high windows showing sky above the trees, piles of red-bound copies of the Journal of Russian Studies and Latin American first editions cascading around me, tendrils of houseplants winding around wrought-iron tables and chairs, the air filled with the smells of sandalwood and cinnamon, and below us, the smell of Miranda baking bread.
I always thought that I was Calypso, crying on the beach, waist-deep in the water, watching my lover sail away. Now I know that instead I'm the one who is always moving, never content with safe harbors. I'll go though my heart is breaking, leaving behind a small form waving from the shore.
Into deep water again.
Safe upstairs in the neighbor's clawfoot bathtub, the high windows showing sky above the trees, piles of red-bound copies of the Journal of Russian Studies and Latin American first editions cascading around me, tendrils of houseplants winding around wrought-iron tables and chairs, the air filled with the smells of sandalwood and cinnamon, and below us, the smell of Miranda baking bread.
I always thought that I was Calypso, crying on the beach, waist-deep in the water, watching my lover sail away. Now I know that instead I'm the one who is always moving, never content with safe harbors. I'll go though my heart is breaking, leaving behind a small form waving from the shore.
Into deep water again.