Wednesday, August 26, 2015

SLOW WHEEL WORN DOWN


The days have been very hot, and the nights, too. It’s almost impossible to shake the heat, to shadow the light. One gets bug-eyed with frustration and exhaustion. Relentless. The light is like a screaming siren that cannot be escaped.













A day or so later ...

I just had the most intense dream. I had to move out of a business/house, under rather short notice. Most of my belongings were gone, but there were the odd knick knacks and ends that float around at the end. One was a box of blown (Murano) glass animals, carefully wrapped as if I had not seen them in a long while. At the top, was a running red horse with black mane. 

My friends MF and JC were also moving out. They had a baby, a boy with the blackest hair whose name was Vevo. They said it was a Turkish name. JC was into all things Turkish at the moment. Vevo meant lively, happy. JC, who in the dream had two older sons, was utterly smitten with Vevo. She said that it was only with her third child that she understood motherhood. (Cursory internet research says that Vevo is an Egyptian name and/or a Kazakhstani surname. ) 

One item in the dream was the desk our next door neighbor made in the 1930s, in high school, which I only got rid of when I moved out of Berkeley. I had anxiety about getting rid of it as I always thought it was very special. It had thirteen drawers on one side, all lined with balsa wood, for his bug collection.

When I went out in the back to move my car, a VW with the capacity of a vintage VW van, there was nothing there but the engine. I had somehow misplaced the body of the car. I tried to conjure it up, remember where I had left it, the body of the car, but I could not quite remember. I thought about trying to use the engine, but without the body, I had no way to turn it on, could not find the ignition, if I indeed had the key.

This sent me into a panic, of course, as we had to get out of the space. MF and JC were their usual sanguine selves. JC was too high on motherhood to care much about anything else. MF was helping me problem solve. 

Later again.






I don't know why I didn't finish and post this last week. Just rather overwhelmed I guess. Mom's health, although not immediately life threatening, has been up and down. At this point, it is more about her quality of life, her ability and willingness to engage with the world. One day, she feels well enough to drive and to take an evening walk with Ariel. The next day, she doesn't do much besides get out of bed and stare at the Trump circus on the tube.

I really had NO (INSERT YOUR OWN ADJECTIVE) CLUE how difficult it is to care for a sick person or an elderly person. Very stressful. Many times I want to cry. I end up drinking more white wine than I should.

INSTEAD OF A JOURNEY

Turn like a top, spin on your dusty axis
Till the bright metal shine again, your head
Hums, and the earth accelerates,
Dizzy, you drop
Into this easy chair you drowse in daily.
Sit there and watch the walls assume their meaning,
The Chinese plate asserts its blue design
The room renews itself as you grow still.
Then, after your flight and fall, walk to the garden
Or at the open window taste return:
Weather and season, clouds at your vision's rim,
Love's whims, love's habitation, and the heart
By one slow wheel worn down, whetted to gladness.

— Michael Hamburger, Weather and Season, Longmans, 1963



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