January living
I feel like if I don't sit down to write something right now, weeks might go by, maybe even months. So here's what is happening.
I'm sitting in my living room. Daisy is curled up in a chair sighing heavily, which is what she does in winter. Zuko is standing attentively at my feet, on alert for whatever exciting thing he thinks is about to happen but isn't. The cats are eating dinner across the house behind closed doors. The white icicle lights I've yet to take down after the holidays are twinkling along the window. (I hung them inside for the first time. I might just leave them here all year.) A clean out the fridge dinner of whole wheat shell pasta and broccoli, onions, garlic, and ginger are cooking on stove and stinking up the joint in that special broccoli-ish way.
I took off early today because I had to seriously TCB. Put my life in order, bake cupcakes, furiously make last-minute CDs filled with love songs. My older brother is getting married this weekend. Holy moly. We are excited. I filled two discs with love songs that I not only love but that I think my brother and his new wife will love, which is not always easy. Songs about falling in love and staying in love, many of which are songs from mixes I've given old boyfriends, songs from mixes they've given me.
It is stunning how quickly a song can take you back to a mix CD and a memory of a Valentine's Day, of an anniversary, of a dance, of a guitar, of a road trip, of a day you got engaged. One of those old boyfriends stopped by today with a belated Christmas gift, a book about running, which was thoughtful. On Christmas Eve, I actually exchanged a brief but amiable Facebook message with one man from the past, probably the one I thought I was least likely to ever communicate with again in any form or fashion for the rest of my life. One of them, who was never a boyfriend but a friend and a possibility, sent me a Christmas gift and a letter in the mail, a letter of reconciliation, I think. I hope. What I'm trying to say is that these songs bring back memories. And that in almost every case, with every person these songs make me remember, there is peace. Not with all, but with most. Even if just the tiniest moment of it. And that feels pretty good as a new year and a new decade begin.
Daisy has taken Zuko's spot by my feet and is blinking at at me and resting her chin on my thigh, on which she just loudly sneezed.
My dad and I went to hear Anthony Bourdain speak, which was a delight. Chuck is back on TV, which can only improve America. I ate Mexican food with friends and listened to my little brother play, which remains one of my favorite activities in life. I will see my sister and brother-in-law again tomorrow. My mom made tuna salad. I held an extremely cute puppy. I ran a little over 8 miles a few days ago, not very fast, and it was actually totally fine, and today I ran 3 miles faster than I ever have. Not tremendous speed in the grand scheme of things, but tremendous for me. And part of it was that 3 miles now feels short, so I didn't feel I had to pace myself. But most of it was that it was 55 degrees and sunny after a week where it's gone down into the teens night after godforsaken night, killing plants and pipes and spirits all over town, and I was so happy to be outside in a sleeveless shirt and shorts and run around and pretend for just a few minutes that spring has sprung. Which it hasn't. But it will. Of course. Thank goodness.
I'm sitting in my living room. Daisy is curled up in a chair sighing heavily, which is what she does in winter. Zuko is standing attentively at my feet, on alert for whatever exciting thing he thinks is about to happen but isn't. The cats are eating dinner across the house behind closed doors. The white icicle lights I've yet to take down after the holidays are twinkling along the window. (I hung them inside for the first time. I might just leave them here all year.) A clean out the fridge dinner of whole wheat shell pasta and broccoli, onions, garlic, and ginger are cooking on stove and stinking up the joint in that special broccoli-ish way.
I took off early today because I had to seriously TCB. Put my life in order, bake cupcakes, furiously make last-minute CDs filled with love songs. My older brother is getting married this weekend. Holy moly. We are excited. I filled two discs with love songs that I not only love but that I think my brother and his new wife will love, which is not always easy. Songs about falling in love and staying in love, many of which are songs from mixes I've given old boyfriends, songs from mixes they've given me.
It is stunning how quickly a song can take you back to a mix CD and a memory of a Valentine's Day, of an anniversary, of a dance, of a guitar, of a road trip, of a day you got engaged. One of those old boyfriends stopped by today with a belated Christmas gift, a book about running, which was thoughtful. On Christmas Eve, I actually exchanged a brief but amiable Facebook message with one man from the past, probably the one I thought I was least likely to ever communicate with again in any form or fashion for the rest of my life. One of them, who was never a boyfriend but a friend and a possibility, sent me a Christmas gift and a letter in the mail, a letter of reconciliation, I think. I hope. What I'm trying to say is that these songs bring back memories. And that in almost every case, with every person these songs make me remember, there is peace. Not with all, but with most. Even if just the tiniest moment of it. And that feels pretty good as a new year and a new decade begin.
Daisy has taken Zuko's spot by my feet and is blinking at at me and resting her chin on my thigh, on which she just loudly sneezed.
My dad and I went to hear Anthony Bourdain speak, which was a delight. Chuck is back on TV, which can only improve America. I ate Mexican food with friends and listened to my little brother play, which remains one of my favorite activities in life. I will see my sister and brother-in-law again tomorrow. My mom made tuna salad. I held an extremely cute puppy. I ran a little over 8 miles a few days ago, not very fast, and it was actually totally fine, and today I ran 3 miles faster than I ever have. Not tremendous speed in the grand scheme of things, but tremendous for me. And part of it was that 3 miles now feels short, so I didn't feel I had to pace myself. But most of it was that it was 55 degrees and sunny after a week where it's gone down into the teens night after godforsaken night, killing plants and pipes and spirits all over town, and I was so happy to be outside in a sleeveless shirt and shorts and run around and pretend for just a few minutes that spring has sprung. Which it hasn't. But it will. Of course. Thank goodness.
posted by eliza @ 7:24 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home