Remember hot summer nights when your parents would let you sleep outside? Pitching a tent was cool but oh so much better with nothing between you and the canopy of stars
(that was before light pollution). Why do we stop doing that except on camping trips? As an adult, I remember one night on a Brooklyn rooftop but that’s it.
I slept on my deck during our last little hot spell. I looked out at the Berkeley Hills and without my contact lenses I could imagine the lights were stars. It was a challenge to be sure to get up and down from the ground to go the bathroom but oh, so worth it. If I had had more than one loaner fan I probably wouldn’t have done it and I would have missed out.
It reminded me of a scene from my friend Kim’s play – I think it was Tattle Tale. All the other girls at the slumber party are running around in their pjs on the street but Kim doesn’t want to get in trouble so she sits in the tent listening to the sounds of the others’ joyful laughter. I’ve been inside that tent too much in my life. Now I want to run wild on the street and damn the consequences. I’m not saying sleeping on the deck is running wild but it’s a start.
We had our annual Drama Banquet on Friday night. My last. The kids tied pieces of muslin around my waist fanning out like the points on a clock. They held me up so I could dance and when I would almost fall they’d pull the muslin the other direction. Mac picked my all time favorite dancing tune and I danced. Magic! You have no idea what a joy it is to dance with abandon when you thought you’d already said goodbye to that part of your life. Later, I got to slow dance with not one cute guy ( a la my bucket list) but a line up of cute guys and one hot blond girl. Each dance had it’s own particular flavor of love and I basked in it all. I don’t even know if they knew they were making my dreams come true. Mac and I stayed up that night to the wee hours talking – tough topics but necessary and rich.
I would rather lose sleep in a painful conversation with him than have 8 uninterrupted hours when he’s out of the house.
Later Mac was too sick to go to his Model UN Conference so my friends rallied to take care of him so I wouldn’t miss my plane to Canada. They also went looking at apartments for me in case my other housing options fall through, emailing me a slide show of the apt and the surrounding coffee shops, raw juice bars, etc. Many of the pics include Edith or Kris waving into Wendy’s camera, looking enthused. Wow. If you read this blog regularly, I needn’t tell you that my friends are an elite squad of super heroes that make the Justice League look like pussies.
I’m both prodded into adventures and covered in a blanket of protection – all on account of love. I feel useful when I can give love and gratefully vulnerable when love is offered to me
Love shape shifts. It blindsides. It comes at you from different angles. You think it’s one thing, then it turns up as something else. It’s tenacious. It’s unpredictable and there appears to be an endless source of it.
Love is bamboo.