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nanna, this time is for us

(communion

two jewish ♀)

i am a candle, lit

vaporizing wax

i am a tree, cut

sap glistening at the wound

i am an oyster, shucked

briny tang of another world

i am a woman, whole

do you know the sanskrit word

kapalbhati?

i shine for you

you shine for me

B. 1977

 

I just finished this beautiful book about friendship, collaboration, and the creative process:

The author was born the same year I was and calls our age group the Oregon Trail generation. That rings true for me. 

As a marketing gimmick, the publisher made a video game from the book. 

Appropriate.

Recently a handful of friends, 45 year old women all (myself included), reached out within the span of a week to share about independently purchased hot tubs and wide toed shoes. 

Never would have called that. 

What a delight, these mid-life surprises!

Montreal

i gingerly descend the steep, sweeping staircase to the door.

a pharmaprix umbrella. i set out along sainted streets, all of them men (unlikely).

i pass the same woman twice (unlikely) pushing her child in a stroller, protected from snow and rain.

tarnished mirrors reflect fig leaves. a laptop (not mine) balances on a jenga tower. bathroom walls a bilingual conversation.

churchbells compete to toll noon. carmelite nuns beyond stone walls. an intermittent wail of sirens.

hydrangeas in the snow. back alleys spangled in graffiti and murals.

the 747 to the 55. head canted against the window. people (drunk, homeless, mentally ill) at the gates of chinatown. 

patches in the night air smell of good scotch. vegan sushi, a converted ferry. i filch cucumber water.

hibernating public compost barrels. a dedicated space for friendship awaiting strangers. parks laid bare in winter.

so many miles (kilometers) for this return to self.