i always have the greatest intentions of attending new years parties and things like this, i even make a dress for these occasions, but i hate that sinking feeling of the ball dropping and i hate that sad shrinking people start to feel as two or three am comes around. all that stumbling and mourning. no thank you. usually i take a sleeping pill and live in dreams through the new year, waking up to that feeling of breaking though the surface of the sea. i far prefer that.
maybe this aching nostalgia is weighted so much by the drum, but probably more so by the construction of my family and of my family home, and the true separatist way i was raised. waking up with neighbors next door and not being able to walk nude to the kitchen to make coffee is a definite adjustment. this adjustment is no easy feat. just this morning i stumbled to the kitchen after a shower, making sure the back windows in the sun room
were properly fogged to hide any pale shadow of me, to make coffee in usual form. not two minutes after i finished, my neighbor friend texted, "good morning, sunshine!!!!!!" funny stuff. seriously funny stuff. but i am not one to ever change my habits unless something truly embarrassing or truly relentless happens, then i consider. when i was a kid a boy that was far older than I used to climb a tree outside my bedroom window, watch me change, and climb the roof and watch me shower through the skylight. one night while i was outside, i saw him on the roof. i went inside and told my parents and they were dumbstruck. he ended up dropping his cellphone outside my window while he was climbing down the tree and later came back to retrieve it. my dad put a gun to his head and said a few words, and i never saw that boy again. nor did i change my habits for window dressing.
the day i moved away a tiny little kitten showed up in the enormous pecan tree next to my miniature house. her mew was so high pitched, my parent's thought she was a bird until they went looking and found a baby in the tree.
my mom named her suzy q after my grandma. but i prefer to call her cookie because whenever i get to see her i get to say, "it's cookie time!" and i like to call her tiger beat because she's so pretty and spunky and has big ol eyes like all of the best heart throbs.
i probably always miss things that never need my missing at all. but if they ever do, i think it helps the heart to know that they are richly thought of and loved very well, despite anything else.