Monday, December 13, 2010

the weight.

here we go again. many times my posts are—as this one—the result of abandoned fb updates. i start typing in that white rectangle and realize i have more to say than the 200-character maximum, or whatever it is. who am i kidding. i always have more to say, even when i don't say it. my mouth is a faucet, like the one in your kitchen w a lot of play in the handle—it takes some finessing to get it to shut off, and even then, there's usually a slight leak.

i thought about a cabin earlier, and it reminded me of all the things i've never done but always wanted to do. it's a short list, though an imposing one. i've had it for years. i won't say what's on it...i can't give away all my secrets. the cabin is a fine example anyway. why have i never been to a cabin in the winter? i grew up in west virginia, after all. lakes and ski resorts are as plentiful as beat up pickup trucks...which, btw, are on another list of mine: things that make me feel like the world used to be much more interesting than it is now. abandoned warehouses, farmhouses, dingy mechanic shops, back roads, and an old coffee can full of other visuals are also on that list.

when i was in high school, a group of my friends rented a cabin at canaan valley for new year's eve our senior year. i wasn't invited. i vaguely remember being resentful about it, although i can't recall if i actually wanted to go or if i was just pissed bc i thought they were rude. probably the latter. no one ever told me, but i'd guess i wasn't invited bc my on-again, off-again boyfriend was part of the group, and maybe even his other girlfriend would be there. i sort of knew about her, and she sort of knew about me, and both of us managed to justify the dysfunction of it all. so no one else dared invite me to canaan, obviously. who knew what would happen. back in those days...oh my. it was if i'd just discovered my heart, and realized what a terrible weapon it could be against its own body.

my heart, it's my mom coming out in me. in her day, it was trouble, too. she was something, my mom. bedeviling, i'm sure of it. tall and curvy, icy blue eyes and pale skin, long, straight hair that matched her morning tea, and a temper just as hot. untamable. she still is, it's just that the scenery has changed. mom would never tell me all her secrets for fear i'd repeat her mistakes. i'm certain i've repeated a few of them anyway. she and my dad in their younger years, they partied. she'd never say it that way, but i've seen the pictures. a new year's eve party in particular. early 80s in our old house. the black leather couch, the wood-paneled walls, the friend with the curious mustache, his date w the long chestnut hair, feathered away from each side of her round face, and a scar very visible on her lip, or maybe it was her forehead. and my favorite aunt in the dining room, wearing a silk blouse, staring at the camera with her lips slightly parted, though not as if she were about to smile. she was stunning...tall and thin like my mom, her shoulder-length hair dyed strawberry blonde, her lips dipped in glossy scarlet, her big eyes rimmed in black liner. i love those pictures. i love that my mom and dad had a good time together. they married young. i'm glad i didn't. but okay, i'll give up one secret: i have felt envious of young couples. not the married kind, i mean the kind who are too young to think about how serious they are and they are ridin' life till the wheels fall off bc there ain't a care in the world yet. i always wondered what that would be like. exhilarating comes to mind.

maybe i should throw away that list of mine. and live whatever life i want. here. now. till the wheels fall off.

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