On A Descending Pendulum


The air smells of nature’s slumber. Sunlight retracts, and branches dry, becoming less pliant. They lose their grip on leaves that have stopped making chlorophyll. The non-green colors that emerge are a happy surrender to the cooler air and shorter days. Wind and gravity coordinate, and the leaves disconnect, then dance downward. As the trees slowly undress they become brittle, craving sleep; their clothes no longer live, lying dormant on the ground: crackly, delicate, waiting patiently to become one with the earth. Decompose to recompose; transformation to transcendence, so that they might twirl and swing and flip and float again. Next year. They live to fall.

Just Another Ramble Because Sleep is Actually the Elephant in the Room

Sitting in bed, lights off. Pajamas on, double the covers because it feels particularly cold in my room. I’m ready for bed. I usually don’t blog in bed, because bed is for sleeping. But I can’t sleep. My thoughts defy me. Some really interesting things are coming together in my life that make sense of why I’m down here in Florida. Right now, I don’t know what I could possibly offer. Prayers, I suppose. Those come in a constant stream. I mean, the whole predicament with the bank hasn’t completely cleared yet, and I had to approach my mom to borrow some money, and when I was telling her on the phone about the situation, I felt a blush heat my face, and all this shame washed over me. And it’s not like I’ve done anything wrong, but it’s the habitual association: all this bad stuff is happening, and that must mean I’m being punished. My logical brain grimaces, but that’s the best it can do, just because the emotional half has taken over. Good things happened today. I finished babysitting and the friend’s parents took over, and my friends seemed especially grateful for the service. Some friends sent me a pretty sweet package from New York City, complete with snickerdoodles and cool music and thoughtful missives. And my mom did agree to loan me the money to conduct some Utah-related business, not so much because she knew I could repay her, but because I happen to be in a little bit of trouble, and I am her child, and she wants to take care of me. Also, my hives are clearing up and now whatever itching comes from my more familiar dry skin, and that’s nothing a good slathering of lotion can’t fix. But, you know, it’s been a well-balanced day, because when I started the car to leave my friend’s from babysitting at 6:30 this morning, it wouldn’t start. And when I thought back to the previous day I’d taken the kids for a short drive to a park, and when I pulled back into the garage and hauled the children back into the house, car seats included, I’d left one of the car doors open, and that drained the battery. So I had to trouble people for a jump start. My friend’s parents, who were taking over the rest of the gig. They were nice enough about it, but that little lapse happened to settle on the pile of things that have made me feel like an idiot. Two bags of snickerdoodles came in that package today, and when I came back from meeting my mom at the bank, one of those bags was missing. And it turned out that the resident dachshund had his way with that bag. I mean, I’m glad he enjoyed the cookies, and he did provide some comic relief to my day. It could have been much worse. And it’s not like the universe rides solely around my life. I’m well aware of kidnappings in my town and shootings everywhere and the world even more quickly crumbling on itself. So now, while I’m not sleeping, I’m trying to sort things out: It’s all personal. It’s all related. But some things hold clear priority over others. And I have to figure out a way to step up and reach out and face some of the real reasons why I’m here in Florida. Because I’m a good friend and daughter and sister. I just have to keep praying. I’m trying not to feel helpless, but something tells me that’s at least part of the point. And the very reasons I can’t sleep right now might also explain why I want to curl up in a little ball. And close my eyes. And pull the double covers over my head. Until it all goes away. 

But that’s not going to happen.