today is one of those almost perfect days. the weather is warm. my slider is open to a screen to let in air but not the birds that for some reason love to pull a Hitchcock on my balcony railing. they stare at me. don't laugh. i am serious. ever since i got one of those big birdseed bells last year, and a mutant crow came and gripped it in it talons, and ripped it off the hanger, they all seem to think i am going to put one out again. no way. i have small dogs, two scotties, and i don't want some big bird thinking they are charred birdseed.
so the slider is open but the screen is firmly shut. i'm embroidering on the last quilt for Suddenwidow and crossing my toes for more commissions. bury me people. i wouldn't mind a list a year and a half long. i just ate a quick bite and checked my email for some commissions that are being considered by people and my igoogle comes up. i love my flying, spinning pig that floats across the top and my applications like, well, yeah, the phases of the moon. i also have a calendar.
there is no avoiding looking at it. today. one year, one month.
am i better? how do you define better? would you consider grading on a curve? well, i don't sob and curl into a ball every single day. i do cry every night as i talk to God, and to him. i smile but my daughter says my eyes don't. i am thinking about the future and it freaks me out. i need health care because as bad as i feel right now, i know i'll feel worse someday. i can't live in this apartment for the rest of my life. i eventually need a car to get myself around. so the future scares the hell out of me.
i have, however, learned how to be more alone than i've ever been in my life. no one touches me but my daughter. once a week hugs. i only hear her and my son's voices now. i have the gift of online friends who are amazing. i have gotten flowers, my widow's ring, and the wherewithal to go to Camp Widow. never would i have gotten to go. never would i buy myself flowers. embroider them for myself, yes. but the smell isn't the same. and my rings, i find myself playing with my rings, making sure the little gold heart on the copper band of my wedding ring is perfectly centered. my widow's ring is closest to my heart.
as rings go i think i'm all backwards but that's me. eccentric thoughts lead to an eccentric life. my wedding ring has the heart on the band. when my Dragon gave it to me, the heart faced outwards to him. while i sat with him after he died, i took it off and turned it around and told him that my heart was closed to anyone and everything. i spoke those words while i was sitting there wanting to exchange places, or to go with him. but one year and one month later, God help me, it still holds true.
my daughter and i went out to supper one night about three weeks ago. we went to a Olive Garden. a man sent over a glass of wine for me. i told the waiter to thank the man but i declined. i told him i was very happily married and only out with my daughter. my daughter backed up the lie. or is it? i still feel married to him. i know he's gone. i know i am a widow. but i still feel so very married to him, so deeply connected, as strong a connection as the day we married, as the night he died.
or maybe i got the wine wrong. i am alone all the time so maybe my social skills are suffering. after we got in my daughter's car later i told her that maybe i hurt his feelings. maybe he saw the wild, unruly blonde hair, my long, patched denim skirt, and my big fake gold hoop earrings and thought i was an old hippie pothead. maybe he just wanted to score, but you know, weed, not sex. she had to stop the car she was laughing so hard. she said, "oh, God, mom. (our Dragon) would love it. i've missed your warped sense of humor. promise me. when you go to San Diego, you'll just say stuff. don't clam up. just say what you think. i promise you someone will laugh."
i have these grief surges. i read about them in a book another widow mailed to me. grief surges catch you off guard. you think, "i'm doing okay. i'm going to survive this. in fact, i damn well may smile today and it might even reach my eyes." then BAM. a song. the sound of seagulls over the Wal-Mart parking lot. or the sight of his beautiful face while i color correct all my photos of him. i feel short of breath. my heart actually hurts. my throat closes up as i fight off sobs. my eyes burn and the smile that was supposed to occur dies in sorrow.
so on this no big special deal today, just another month going by, here are some photos of my Dragon i don't think you've ever seen.
out on, okay, way out on Flat Rock Point dreaming of our island.
heading to the low tide point where we can wade across to climb up to the top of Salt Island.
there were crabs that made their home of this side of Flat Rock Point. we always went to check on them at dusk. 
at the end of the Dog Bar off Eastern Point Light. we loved it out here during storms. the waves would slam into the granite and arch over the seawall. great place to be when the wind was howling. no one else would be out there.
my beautiful, wild Dragon. i miss you, love.do you ever think of me? do you say my name? if i were never there again, would you never be the same? ~ my little rhyme for the day.
