Oh this week. This cloudy mind and puffy eyed week of thrilling highs and satisfying lows. Plump as can be, this week. Loaded as ever, this week. Bursting with music and heart felt gazes. Brimming with gripping goodbyes and subtle yet sudden realizations. There were jalapeño drinks wrought with gin, this week. Quality time with the keys, this week. Clean sheets and still too much cheese, this week.
On Thursday night I looked down at my feet that rested on the coffee table. They looked so much like my dad’s. I think I’ll keep them unpainted for a while.
6 months hit this week, and I was a damn mess. I assumed my position beneath his old phonograph and spun this song on repeat. Spun it so long and so loud that I tranced into twilight.
But I woke up strong and able. I greeted the day George couldn’t blessed and bright. This week was a good week. A pure, raw, real, unnerving, fleshy week that tested my resilience but pushed me out on top.
A close friend of mine left on Friday to travel Thailand for two weeks and packed his pocket with this folded up picture note I wrote for my father. He’s taking George into Thai palaces, up Thai mountains, down Thai streets. He’s inviting George to Thai dinner tables and Thai conversations. He’s giving my dad a chance to see a world he never explored.
Saturday morning I shook off the residual tears and laced up my running shoes. I faced the most spiritual scenes for 10 miles straight, and never once did a less than loving thought occupy my mind. My eyes were too swollen for my contacts, but my mind was trim. Reduced to thoughts of gratitude and acceptance.
Only a simultaneous sunset moonrise can make you feel both giant and microscopic at the same time.
I live in wine country. I do a lot of living because of that.