10:12 ish. The school run went beautifully and without fuss, though last-minute. I left all care for cleanliness alongside the crumbs around the breakfast table. Most Fridays I am in an incredibly stressed-out state. Not this time. I kept priorities straight.
I did my exercises at the lake, as it turns out, while the kids played. (The younger kids and I go to a park with a small lake, before school.) In between pushups on the moss and sit-ups on the soft pine needles near the sand, I pushed the youngest one on the swing. The older one swings himself and he is very good at it.
I felt fantastic and spiritually renewed. Of course I instigated a mental renewal of the long-harboured semi-secret plan to one day start a “yoga at the park” group, where I would “lead” random passerby in a silent exercise routine, join-in-as-you-like, free admission, come-as-you-are, listen-to-your-body type-thing; all I would need is a large, hand-drawn sign, commitment, and a total lack of ego. But I laid that image alongside the pebbles I admired while I was doing inch-worm pose, at the bottom of the yoga “wheel,” in my sun salutation. No big plans. Keep it simple.
Then we went for our walk. Talked to a man from the south. He was tanned. They’d had no rain for three months, except occasional tropic-style deluges, he said. That sounded familiar somehow. #myrecentdrinkinghistory
On the earlier drive to the older kids’ school, winding down the hillside highway, an incredibly beautiful bird had flown just in front of our vehicle. I’d nearly hit it. I’d actually had to slow down a little to avoid it. Why do they do that? I thanked “god” that I had not killed it. I thanked “god” fervently and sincerely. The bird had a white breast and blue and gold streaks in its plumage. At the lake I watched the crows. Or are they ravens?
I have to say the world feels very alive, and I feel like something is returning to me that I had completely lost, these past months. I had been sober for lengthy periods in those months but in a dry and husky way. Like some old leaves.
I came home and I showered and took my time at it. I must try not to rush any more. I must actually care for myself if I want any of this to work. I remembered a poem I once wrote. That poem might save me, just maybe.
Then I got dressed to look as beautiful on the outside as I feel on the inside.
I have a new dress. It suits me perfectly. I saw it last weekend, on a rare afternoon out — a celebratory (anniversary) afternoon with my husband — and bought it in a flash. It was not at all an expensive dress. But it was perfect, loose, and a soft bluish-jade green, the only green I can wear, and my do I love green.
My husband said it made look wide at the bottom.
He was not being unkind; only honest, when I twirled outside the dressing room, arms up like the branches of a tree, and said, out of habit, mostly, and a desire to include him in this foreign, feminine place of women’s clothing shops: “What do you think”?
His honesty is what I love most about him; it is in fact the main reason I married him. I am very grateful to him for the way he tells the truth.
So I laughed, when he kindly implied that my ass looked fat, and I admitted he might be right. And yet I didn’t really care that he did not like it.
It was everything I wanted in a dress, though I had not known it till then. I bought it immediately, and today I wear it for the first time, to match my current beautiful mood. I had not felt like wearing it till now.
Tree, I have to tell you something. I get tears in my eyes now thinking of it.
I thought I would sacrifice anything to keep my marriage — the biggest commitment I had ever made in my life, before having kids, and to the person in my life that I have loved the most, alongside blood family — but I have changed my mind on that.
Nothing will come before this.
2019-06-08 I unpublished it soon after publishing this. Can’t remember why. Probably because it was very deeply personal and yet got few likes. Republishing it now.