scrawls.

scrawls

still cheaper than therapy*

31.1.11

Think of how they catch the sunlight from the window and gleam, and the edges curl up and firelick into warm. i rinse coffee mugs, two by two, plan to visit the Italians downstairs. Plan laundry again, and glad for it. There is a trivet shaped like a turtle in the key-and-shoemakers' down the street, not the nearest one, i think castiron but big brassy yellow on top, and i have been walking past it for four years, looking at it, and considering. I miss the ones i had before, in my old kitchen, in my old house, in my old life, when everything flowed easily like water, or like sand through a nailed-down hourglass. Instead they are packed in boxes, stacked up neatly, four thousand miles away. I will have them again. From the beginning i said - i will have it again. I am not wrong about these things.

This house is a maybe even hundred years old and my warm air flies out the windows, now (i finally keep a sauna under a blanket), and the old plumbing lays flat, and i have to remember to have the water heater serviced again, and the old housekeeper said that every year she was there, there had been a baby, back when it was our turn - and there has been no new baby since then. I think of the things i can give away, of what i can simplify, how i can find clarity in my space, in notmy space.

Labels: house

scrawled @ 09:04