Rooted, I used to think.

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Purgatory - Sunday, Feb. 10, 2019
Day Fifteen - Saturday, Feb. 09, 2019
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Day Thirteen - Thursday, Feb. 07, 2019
Atonement - Thursday, Feb. 07, 2019

Monday, Jul. 25, 2005 @ 6:28 pm
Stagette Weekend

Mel's Stagette Party

The girls, so beautiful, you're here already marrying off. Such grace, such long legs, all of us have become young women... I remember us folding up paper wishes and leaping over alters of burning candles, then burning the wishes themselves in hopes they'd come true one day. "Who'll be the first to marry?" we'd ask Ouiga. Fold the pop can tab back and forth, saying a letter for each bend of the metal... lands on an N for her.

We'd go into the woods, lugging sturdy small wooden chairs. I was Earth. The others were Fire, Water and Air and we had thin wands we'd carved ourselves. Me Earth, the solid steady unmoving, except in sudden tectonic outbursts.

Now we run the stoney streets of Whistler, the cheap veil streaming off behind Mel. The bars are blurs of drinks, broken glass, humid dance floors. Soft eyes of tall boys, a cab ride back to their split-level. Hot tub steams into the cool mountain summer night. This is so careless. He holds onto my hand to keep me from fidgeting, What are you nervous about? I look around at the guys who outnumber us three to one.

I fall alseep with Jen in the hotel room.

Back at home I sit on Tim's bed and watch him look at the painting I promised I'd give to him. I painted it when I was upset and confused, so it's a fake - a pacifier of my feelings. Pacific... pacifier...

He loves me so much, I rock to sleep in the rhythm and waves of his breathing and his heart.

Roots | Shoots