peevish mama

Yesterday I walked around my lake, my love, the beautiful Harriet. I do my best thinking when I walk around the lake. Something about completing that circle makes me feel like I have accomplished something, closed a loop, tied a thread in this life of so many unraveling threads.

About a quarter of the way around, the sun was just starting to sink below the tops of the trees, puffing up its chest to let out one last roar – spilling breathtaking light of peaches and tangerines over the lake. The snow looked like sherbet. I needed a long cold spoon.

I will learn how to use my camera.

About half way around, the sky was streaked in purples and reds, oranges and blues. The clouds pulled in diaphanous swathes of pigment like the eye shadow of a drag queen after a long night – swollen iridescence, garish, hopeful, disappointed. Beautiful and sad.

I will stop swearing. Out loud.

Three quarters of the way around, the city shimmered beyond the lake, almost touchable, looking like something out of a magical pop-up book. Oz.

I will be more patient and present with my inner circle – with the little people who didn’t get to pick me – and with the one who actually did.

Full circle. I turned my back to the lake and headed home.