Thursday, April 03, 2008

the garden state

Its been a few weeks since I have properly had my wits about me to form sentences let alone a whole post... along with the time to do so. I've also been looking for that sentence to start this flow of words. I've also been afraid to say it... in the grand worrywart tradition of when good things happen, don't talk about it, you will jinx it for sure.

whippoorwill © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Furthermore in the tradition of this blog, I write when I return from the doctor's office... but I've even waited a few days past that. In a way I've defied the doctor's diagnosis in a way I couldn't have foreseen... and could not have envisioned any more perfectly if I tried. The Butcher tells me I will be socially on hold until I am mended. And suddenly I feel better in unprecedented ways. This is not limbo any longer.

conjoined © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

I've spent a few months of being very tight-lipped about certain parts of my life, to most everyone really, but the closest of the close. The shrunken innermost circle has grown by one. His name is Michael. Just thought you should know, if anyone bothers to read ye olde blogge anymore... he is the Right Hand Man to my Fidgety Left Hand Woman. We met a month ago, somewhere between words on a page, an abandoned house, a ten-hour phone conversation, the Towpath and the Ikea vestibule. He is extraordinary. Not least of all in that he can inhabit all those places at once. Since then we've been many tints and shades of everywhere together... in a grander emotional sense and in the four-hour car rides without a specific destination sense. It is so very good.

200 years of loss
200 years of loss © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

So next week, I am getting fixed. Michael will pick me up and cart me to the hospital in the old man mobile. As requested, the Butcher will give me a spinal so I can experience all the flavors of bizarre detached discomfort he has on his bottomless butt buffet. And then my useless lower and groggy upper halves will be released to my Right Hand Man who will tend my sleepy Frankenstein remixed body for the next day or two.

connexion © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

Luckily, when I asked if he was patient, he did not hesitate to say yes, absolutely... without any notion of what he was about to get himself into. I'd like to publicly cry out from the snowy-capped blogtops, there is nothing I appreciate more, now or ever. Thank you. Thank you.

the welcome attentions
the welcome attentions © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

The past month has been ripe with adventures, uncovering new places, making up stories for the inaccessible ones, slyly entering the open ones, reliving history, reaching for a future, going places I will never be able to again. Making things with a fury, seeing with excited eyes again. And not missing the things that matter as they appear before me.

cochineal © Laura Kicey. All Rights Reserved.

I don't think, in my flagging consciousness of increasingly late night, I can do justice to what has become of me in the month since I have written. Even better things are undeniably ahead, I just needed to break the silence, somewhat gracefully and at the right time. And that time is today.

Finally, Happy Birthday Sweets, I promise it will be a good one. Maybe I'll make this my adoptive birthday, since I deferred celebration in September. It feels right.

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Blogger Michael K. said...

Michael has an 'old man mobile'? Sweet. Props to him. I used to have one but had to turn it in.

1:19 PM, April 13, 2008  

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