The reverence in which I just unboxed a ream of paper made me wish I had been video taped.
I was all excited as I saw the box in the hallway when I got home from work tonight and I thought, boy, I could use a little pick me up after the busy day I had at work.
Grandparent visit.
That’s all I’ll say.
Thank God tomorrow is Friday.
Anyway.
I wheeled home, a perfectly temped night, a fast whiz through the park, the smell, dark, rich, fragrant, trees and earth and coolness, the sharp, delicious smell of wood fire burning down at the beach drifting towards me.
I looked up.
Saw Orion in the sky.
Remembered nights, compiled upon one another in a stack of memory Tarot cards, a shuffling of images, heart rendered soft with the sweetness of that unrequited love, that night on the beach there, that hand in my hand on the sea wall, the fall of the red moon into the sea, the lift of the stars above my head.
I thought of all the times I had stared up silent and alone in the awe of the stars, the press of the night on my heart, the alone of not being alone and the loveliness of the sky after just slipping off my bicycle and turning off the flashing lights on my handlebars.
I smiled at the stars, stuck the key in the garage door, wheeled in the bicycle.
I opened up the door to the hallway and there was the box.
Ooh!
Look.
My shoes!
My new Sam Edelman, I bought them with my State Tax Return, shoes.
Oh goody.
Maybe I’ll wear them this weekend.
It’s supposed to be nice.
I started thinking about what dress I should wear and I picked up the box, heavy, satisfying, the weight a sweet promise of eclectic colored pedicures and walks in the sunshine.
I got a pair of “flatform” sandals.
A retro wood platform with leather toe and ankle straps.
Super cute.
The Bentlee by Sam Edelman.
I mean.
Serious cuteness.
I delayed a little.
I put the box on the table and turned on the lights, lit the candles, cued up some music.
I am in a nostalgic music phase and am listening to Masters of Reality, Sunrise on the Surferbus.
It always reminds me of a particular boyfriend and one summer day coming into our room at the house and I didn’t know he was home, he must have come in after me, and I had the album playing loudly in the bedroom.
It was the song, Jody Sings.
The sun was slanting through the elm trees and dappling the wood floor.
I was in a long skirt, one that I had salvaged from a house dress of my mom’s, I wish I still had it, it was the perfect A-line skirt and it spun so well, I always felt so pretty when I wore it.
A long A-line skirt, a navy blue leotard, my hair down, my feet bare, the sunlight warm on the wood floors, Jody Sings playing on the tape deck player, one, two, three, I’m on my knees, Jody sings, I get high, when she rings, clouds roll by, Jody sings, I get high, when she rings clouds roll by.
Lucky one.
I am two.
Yes, I am.
Lucky three, oheee
The one for me.
One, two, three, I’m on my knees.
On my knees.
On my knees.
On my knees.
Please.
Baby, please, baby please.
I remember swaying my hips and the skirt flaring out above my knees and the sun playing on the fabric, I felt soft and sweet and sensuous.
I spun on my toes and stopped mid spin when I saw my boyfriend leaning in the doorway watching me.
His eyes aglow.
It is something.
To have someone look at you like that.
Wow.
I just had the most intense rush of emotion remembering that.
It was a hard, horrible relationship at the end, but I forget, sometimes, not always, the sweetness of the early part, the mixed tapes and the rides on the back of his motorcycle, the picnics at Picnic Point, the long nights talking until dawn, the realization that this was my person and I was his and then the realization that I was so, so, so stuck.
Ah.
Perspective.
I called it, recently, as I recall, the one night stand that became a five year relationship.
I don’t do that anymore.
Not that I have been horribly successful with romantic relationships over the past decade.
Although, truth be told, I found the One long ago, me.
And that was a divine discovery.
“Go, be frivolous!” He texted me today after my check in about my finances and some residual fear that was still trying to hang on to, even though I did some inventory around it last night before I went to bed.
He’s right, though.
He usually is.
I’m excited to be frivolous, in case you were wondering.
I found another pair of Fluevog’s I’m pretty raring to get and another pair of sneakers, I’ve had my eye on them for a bit and they’d be super good for work and also cute, which is important.
I also did my spending plan for February and tallied all my expenses for January.
I figured out what I need to put into savings and what I am allowed to spend on myself.
I’m going to have fun.
I’ll keep you updated.
Especially since I did not get the shoes tonight.
Ha.
Nope.
As I said.
The sacred cutting open of the brown cardboard box did not reveal a fancy box full of adorable platform sandals.
I reverently removed the plastic bubble wrap and said, “what the fuck?”
Oh!
Bwahahahaha.
It’s my paper for my new printer.
Well.
I guess I’m ready to write my Clinical Relationship paper now.
Ha.
Hopefully the shoes will come in time for the weekend.
And if not.
I’m sure I will find something else to bring me joy.
I have a heart full of it.
I plan on keeping it that way.
It doesn’t have to come in a box in the mail.
I have an unlimited source of it whenever I look inside myself.
Right.
There.
Hello.
Love.
Nice to see you again.
Let’s have fun this weekend.
Ok?
Auntiebubba 