~~~~~For daddy. Who loves, loves, loves me.Daddy & K.
DAY ONE: That little orange cat is still hanging around our house. Hubby saw
him on the front porch on his way to work. It’s as if the cats around the neighborhood are telling their feline friends to come on over… and if you hang around long enough, the lady of the house (ME) will give ya’all some Meow Mix or scratch your fat belly.
Oh, by the way, Bully Boy, the other orange drifter was adopted.
I saved something.
DAY TWO: It’s been 9 months & 3 weeks since Kay’s murder.
It’s not getting easier. She is everywhere. She is nowhere.
The scent of Estee’ Lauder perfume …
disappeared from her long, lovely coats.
I wish I could pick up the telephone and tell her how fucking sad I am about her murder… how I wish I could’ve saved her, how the world has suddenly narrowed & lessened & feels fragmented, ugly, unforgiving, and discontented.
Oh, God, why wh
y why why have you abandoned me?
DAY THREE: Went shopping with T.
Saw that icky guy again; the one that keeps harassing me. This is the third time in four months I’ve seen him lingering.
He keeps asking about Kay, keeps asking me why I won’t talk to him about her, keeps calling me rude.
“You are a veeeery rude person,” he said. “Very, very rude.”
Well, I saw him in the dairy section at Super One yesterday….. and my heart started pounding swiftly, erratically.
He stood there waiting for me with his dirty hands on his hips. His eyes were angry.
“You are ruuuuuude,” he said loudly as I tried to walk past him. “You owe me an apology.”
I called T. over to rescue me.
“This is him,” I uttered. “This is the guy I told you about.”
She threatened that we were going to call the police…that we were getting a restraining order against him, that he was mentally disturbed.
Then she grabbed my hand tightly and we walked to the bakery area.
Just one more stalker that loved my sister, Kay.
Everybody loved her.
Loved her to fucking death.
DAY FOUR: Reading my first book since the murder: “Little Bee.”
I’ve only been able to read poetry since Kay. Words that trickle inside my soul like something balmy, something blossoming….
Syrupy. Simple. Symbolism.
But “Little Bee” caught me instantly. Took me into some still waters, another humanity.
Little Bee says: “Sad words are just another beauty. A sad story means this
storyteller is alive.”
DAY FIVE: Baked a whole chicken like the beautiful, brilliant Barefoot
Contessa. (not quite…but almost)
I drenched the little sucker with sea salt, sweet butter, ground pepper, and loads of real garlic. I positioned strips of bacon over the top.
…Stuffed the cavity with onion, mushrooms, lemons, carrots, broccoli, and sweet potatoes.
It tasted like childhood, Christmas, and Sunday.
It tasted like my old life.
DAY SIX: Days and nights soften together into one large puddle.
I missed last spring. Now it’s come again.
I can’t remember.
I can’t forget.
If somebody could drown in sorrow and sadness, I’d be dead by now….I’d be shriveled up by now.
But I’m still here.
Still here. still here
DAY SEVEN: The Cardinal is back.
He sits in the tree like a blood red God.
He sits in the green pine like he expects something.
He is so magnificent that my heart rises up…
Then it falls falls falls.
~~~~~~For support and more information please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or at TTY 1-800-787-3224.
click here NOW >http://www.thehotline.org/get-help/help-in-your-area/