still reading “Bird by Bird.” her familial relationship stories are my favorite. such poignancy and love. her making index-card giants for her sick son; her mother’s reaction to her published books.
those stories, those emotions are what’s meaningful to me. bonds beyond rationality; feeling safe in a cruel world; doing what one can to care for each other. do they touch me because they are gaps in my life? or there is there some fundamental humanity there? probably both.
she says big hearts show, like beautiful, unwieldy, throbbing things walking about in public. i think that is me. an overgrown heart–always open, childlike and naive, caring enormously for every passing thing. sensitive. it’s this bright, obvious thing. every child and kitty notices and are drawn to me as i am to them.
but out in the cynical, callous “adult” world, this is apparently invitation for teasing, mocking, belittling. why isn’t it seen as a beautiful combination, a grown person’s wisdom with the enthusiasm, innocence, keenness of a chid. it’s not weakness. it’s not stupidity. i’ve manage to grow up while still capable of caring about everything.
i like my big heart. i don’t need to be fixed other than caring too much about what everyone else thinks. i don’t aspire to be them. is it possible? i am ok? is this the moment i fall in love with myself?
i’m tired of being the one good at taking care of people, the most considerate one in the group. when i’m needy, the people in my life often fail me. it’s lonely. and i grow tired of asking.
i love sitting at Stauf’s sidewalk table, at night, alone. cars going by and parking mere feet from me, clusters of people walking by, congregating, disassembling. buzzing chatter, with snippets of enthusiastic declarations rising above the fray. that special grin of people with Jeni’s ice cream in hand. a latte and snickerdoodle–snickerrrrrdoooooodle–on my table. an open free weekly in on lap. i feel alive.
Kitten just ran over to White Kitty, plopped down astride an arm, then looked up at me with eyes as big as saucers. he holds his kitty stare on me like a hanging question mark, asking if he was doing anything bad (since he is always getting in trouble for playing roughly with White Kitty). i give him a kitty kiss with my eyes, and he immediately falls to suckling on White Kitty’s arm.
White Kitty is surprisingly adventurous today. sleeping on the mat by the front door, sitting in the middle of the livingroom, asking to cuddle on my lap.