here, now

Dreary Wednesday. I woke up with an ache in the heart and a confused mind. The wind whips through the garden, down off the roof, through the branches of the budding tree, and onward.

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I have said for quite some time that if I were going to compile a book of my own words, that the first would be titled When The Dogwood Blooms. Because in the childhood home that lingers forever in my mind, the beginning of better came with the pinky white flowers of the Dogwood tree. The one in the neighboring yard was better than the one in ours, and we could climb it. So our initials were carved into the tree in a juvenile claim of territory. There is no Dogwood in my backyard now, but there is a beautiful garden that is loved and tended to everyday. There are two chairs, one for me, usually the other for the cat. Three bikes hang on the fence, and two plants from the tree. The tree! It has baby red buds springing from its branches, a sign that warmer weather will be here before we know it and we will be caught wishing for the rain.

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I am wearing a new sweater — well new to me, anyways. A maroon crew neck with Sierra Nevada on the front. Tribute to dad, homage to Chico, a feeling of belonging and a local cultural identity I picked up at the Goodwill for $7.99. No more clothes! In my head on repeat, but what do you do when the clothes no longer fit you, and you no longer fit them? What then? The clouds are rolling in, big, mean, gray clouds. The kind that are secretly laughing at the damage they may cause. Fretting over what size the puddle is going to be out back. Questioning if the kitten will bring in anymore half eaten earthworms for me to return with a toss to the front lawn. Sipping the coffee that Dawson made me now, and thinking about the egg he fried me this morning. Edges of the whites laced with crisp and avocado on hashbrowns. It won’t always be like this, but it will. There will always be joy in your lover making breakfast, making a drink, making a life out of bits and bobs of hopes and determination. And then there will be a garden, and two cats, and good food, and everything you ever wanted — even if some of it is just out of reach.

And there will be friends, here and there. Sometimes they will come to you and you’ll giggle with pear wine and grilled cheese, and sometimes you will go to them. And you will talk about how you want a dog, and how all we do is hangout with boys, but its okay because at least then we have each other. Mostly you will be busy for now, and you will miss friends, but they are there in your heart and the way you love and what you look for.

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Tonight there will be dinner later than I like, because I am working later than I like and the whole day gets moved around. I miss evenings on my couch and in my kitchen, roaming about and swallowing the day as my big blue sweater swallows me. It is my house sweater, I only wear it in the mornings and at night, when I know I am home and can be just at home. Present in the now.

All is well, even on this dreary Wednesday.