dancing.

November 28, 2010

today was a western day. deep blue sky, billowy white clouds on the horizon line no matter which horizon in which direction one happened to be looking toward. crisp air with that snappy, cool feeling, but all of it so different than somewhere non-west. its the light i think, that pink orange light with the powder blue around the edges that infuses a california day like no other. already there is snow on the mountains, the very same mountains that since my childhood have taken on a shadowy purple blue when fall gets close to winter. i left san francisco at thirty and spent a perfect few months in my home town, waking up to those winter mountains every day and breathing them in before taking my dad’s black lab for a walk at the base of mt. baldy.

(before i go any further, let me for a moment interrupt what will follow by saying i know i was supposed to stop writing and jump fully in to book mode. but i can’t help it. so forgive me and i promise to post a book blog very soon. very, very soon. maybe even tomorrow.)

thursday was thanksgiving and my little family spent it with my bigger family, and after the wine and house-hopping and dinner, we headed back to my sister’s house and jumped immediately into pajamas for movies and a sleepover. we all, i think, slept the holiday sleep of too much food and not having to be anywhere first thing in the morning, and after hours of coffee and cartoons and dog-loving (there were four including my lucybean), i headed home with kid and dog in tow. and wouldn’t you know, it was right there on the road, with ray on the radio, a soy latte in hand, and my rear view mirror informing me, that a sudden and perfect moment of grace and balance presented itself, moving through me like a first sip of cocoa, warm and sweet.

it was there around me. i could hear lucy snoring from her doggy bed in the very back of the car; maya was behind my seat and side-lit from the window so that her hair, hanging in front of one eye as she read, turned honey and golden. the day outside was breath-taking, my old SUV contained within the two little lives i am responsible for, and as we rolled home, i kept looking in my mirror, wrapping myself in all that warm feeling and sense of harmony. i am doing this. not always perfectly, but in moments i get it really right, and i am able to step back for just the tiniest bit, and view from outside the things which i love and which move me and which make me work harder than i ever thought i could.

this is the dance, one of many these days, and i am so busy learning so many steps for so many different kinds that it seems i rarely get any one really right. it’s okay: by doing a few pretty well here and there, and somewhat occasionally, it seems some of my steps are getting me to where i’m supposed to be. but god i hope i don’t look as clumsy as i sometimes feel.

when i was little, my mom would buy these little cans of apple juice with the pull tab for my sissy and i to put in our lunches. i would stick one in the freezer on friday nights, and on saturday, i would bundle up if it was cold outside, take the whole top of the apple juice can off with a can opener, grab a spoon and whatever i was reading, and sit in a rocking chair on the backyard patio, my nose in a book and my spoon scraping out frozen juice. i was absolutely content, alone, outside, with my book and my favorite sweater on. i can still remember the sound and feel my spoon made, digging out the frozen juice, and how simple and easy it was to gather what i cherished around me and feel deeply happy. sun on my face, in the pretty backyard of the house we grew up in, our dog daisy at my feet. this is the feeling i had on my way home yesterday – the important things gathered around me, and therefore, me, utterly, deeply happy.

if only other parts of the dance were so simple. this year i have come in contact with, and watched move in and out of my life, people from places both likely and unlikely. some have been invited in. others have shown up and asked for a spot on my dance card. still yet, i have been visited by long lost friends from a lifetime lived a hundred years ago. delicate and kindred souls have returned from travels abroad and now they are here, right in my very own neighborhood, and the sheer accessibility of them makes me giddy it is so unbelievable and perfect. if i had a good arm i could throw a wicked curve ball, and maybe even hit a window at their place, they’re so close.

and for the not-quite-yet-formed connections with newer faces and equally compelling souls, i remain in wonder of them. wondering why they are here. wondering what i did to deserve them. wondering where to put them, or not put them, or whether to just allow, and see if indeed they inevitably land somewhere close by, or if they are just stopping for a moment before drifting on. as much as i want to shout “stay!” i know i can’t keep them close if they have other places to be, if their heartstrings are being pulled in other directions, if there isn’t really the time to explore and discover and learn each other. it is the sad counterpart to connection: the realization that things joined can be severed; that most times a finite balance of forces and influences need to be met in order for true and intimate connection to take place; that possibility, doesn’t always mean, actuality.

and so i sit, as if in a meadow surrounded by glorious trees and swaying grasses and fragrant flowers, and i try to see and smell and take in all that surrounds me. and while there, i look for the balance and harmony, however fleeting or momentary, that i felt those days ago in my sunny car with my sunny kid and snoring dog. and for those who are walking by, or stopping by, or staying, i can only utter, in my most humble and gratitude-soaked voice, thank you for the visit. i’ll be here, studying my dance steps, hoping to see you again very soon.

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One Response to “dancing.”

  1. Carole Klopschinski Says:

    Kerri Lynne…You are such a gifted writer…I know one day you will be published and life will never be the same for you…and I can say, ” I know that award winning writer”…Keep it up and give Maya a hug for me…Hope we can get together one of these days soon….Carole


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