Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Inside-out

I don’t know how it works exactly, but you know when it happens and suddenly you’re struck with a very specific memory, I mean I’m washing the collard greens at the sink and then I see myself walking down my grandmother’s street, past all the big old mansions and a few strange, mostly smaller 1960s concoctions like my grandmother’s house, huge trees, down the hill and through the little old town of the neighborhood, over to Whole Foods, the only interaction with people. I know what it is: the emotion, that’s what brings on the memory. I was there after my grandmother died, just over a year ago, spending time in the house I didn’t even realize how much I would miss, I mean I realized it then. My mother arrives here today, and already I’m sad. The last time I saw her was at my grandmother’s house, now it’s someone else’s house, a young artist I guess, I hope he’s enjoying it. Sometimes I think of sending him a postcard: welcome.

My mother arrives here today, and already I’m sad. Actually, she’s probably here already, I haven’t checked my voicemail yet. I meet her around 2. I think I’m sad because of the medication, actually, the way it drains me of me. Yesterday and today, I woke up in that cloud of darkness, longing for something other than this cave, a heaviness, a sinking, emptiness surrounding everything, a drain. Ready to go to bed as soon as I’ve gotten out of bed, almost. But first I will see my mother, usually that ends up draining me too. I mean sometimes I end up enjoying the visit, I like interacting with her as this person who I don’t quite know, but then the reality sinks in and she’s my mother, the same emptiness and longing and Wheels said what do you do for yourself when you know you’re going to get to that place? I have no idea. Especially when I’m already so drained ahead of time. I guess there’s always my apartment, this place of light and color and space and contrast that holds me, the plants and art and papers to look at, space for the childhood feelings that never had space, I guess that’s what happens I just go back there to that feeling of absolute and total despair, the feeling that everything else is an illusion, the only reality the pin-cushion of hopelessness, the way I felt for my first 19 years so it’s always there somewhere inside. And then, inside-out, maybe that’s part of it too. Okay, I’ll go outside and sit in the sun with my sunhat, well no first I have to eat something and check my voicemail, then maybe some sun, a walk, a shower, work on a book review, a phone call or two, and then my mother. Will I really be able to do all of that? Mostly I just feel like getting back in bed.

6 comments:

Campbell B. said...

Sorry you're not feeling very well today. I hope the visit with your mother was a good one.

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

We shall see!

Love--
mattilda

katia said...

Also sending hopes for your heart and sadness.

katia said...

hearts!

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Yes, hopes for my heart and sadness, I love that!

Love --
mattilda

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

And hearts :)

Love--
mattilda