A new day

And week. Of the work variety, anyway. Here are writings of last night before and after a nap (I actually meant it to be for the night even though it was way earlier than normal). The nap didn’t interfere at all with getting back to sleep for the night later. No mares came on the way to either batch of sleeping (which is good because I had no snacks handy to give them). Oscar and at least one other angel I know of were clearly watching over me. I’m in a bit of a hurry though, so here is the change that came over me. I really mean what I wrote at the end of the second batch though; I can’t imagine the quantity of good that could come out of such a measure. Have a great day. At the other end of mine is a session with M of the therapist sort. Now that’s a good thing, isn’t it?

Before nap

It doesn’t compare; honestly, there is no comparison.

It has to do with affrontery. Just the other day I referred to something more recent as seeming so long ago. But it was in a different area of my life; then again, I don’t suppose it is so long ago for the person I said that to, or someone else for that matter.

It’s all really just yesterday.

I feel my pulse behind my eyes and in my lips. This is just another tunnel, from which there is an exit on the other side.

So they asked him to explain himself; and there is no explanation. People’s children are being slaughtered, planes flew into windows, and there is no good explanation for any of it.

I’m nauseous. My childhood must be placed, gingerly, on the shelf for the time being. No one needs to know this. Even the airwaves conspire to silence me. I told this man who is the father of my children, and he simply walked away.

Plunging in a freefall free-for-all in a nightshirt instead of a business suit.

Big deal.

After the nap and something else

Happy to be Nappy

There are shows about how people are different. They have children in them; they are made for children.

One was on tonight. I woke up when a boy was talking about how much he loves to dance; it makes him feel taller, and proud. Then there was an eight-year-old little person who fought off tears with the most beautiful smiles as she spoke about how people stare; they never stop staring. There are things other people can do that she can’t do as well, but how you deal with that, she said, is to try harder and do the best you can. She is kind, and guesses she is smart and funny and a good friend.

There was a boy who said that the minute he was born, he was blind. He doesn’t go to a special school. He works with this really cool looking keyboard thing. He really likes golf, and is learning how to play with a lot of practice, and the assistance of a good teacher and a metronome.

There was a boy with cerebral palsy who told about the braces he needs on his legs and the walker he uses (and boy can you roll with one of those, plus friends can push you and wooohooo, it looked like fun!). The hardest thing is when his friends play football and sports; he pretty much has to just watch. But … his favorite place is in the swimming pool because there he is free and can move without braces or his walker. I have seen few people as happy as that boy in the swimming pool.

In between were lots of kids talking about feelings. There was a story in English and Spanish about two little girls (Margaret and Margarita) who become friends/amigas in spite of speaking different languages (read by Rita Moreno) and one about a dog who is called “Big Ears” and gets a real complex, but it’s worked out when his girl comes to his dog bed when he’s having a nightmare about his dilemma, and wraps one of his ears around herself and falls asleep there with him. That story was read by Isaac Mizrahi.

I really think most grownups should be required to see this show and others like it. Maybe, just maybe, they’d learn something about how to be human.

Guardian of the field