In the company of women, Girls! Girls! Girls! or the derelict daughter
Never is it so apparent this need to surround oneself with members of the same sex, as when one is in crisis. Sanctuary from a storm, tears that fall with the slightest provocation. A knowing smile. We are a household of women, we are. I. happily sings, a melody that grates after five minutes (akin to AJ and my famous 12-hour journey singing "naranjito in the snow, naranjito in the snow..." in a descending scale over and over) and becomes a low background hum after that. "My mommy, my mommy, my mommy, my mommy..."
I discover, after accepting to cover a companion's class at noon, that it is parent-teacher conference week. How did such a gross detail escape me? How could I have forgotten signing the paper, 12:30, staring me back in my very own letter. I am a zombie, wandering through the days in a half daze. And still the deadlines come, and still I manage to scrape together some semblance of a presentable appearance. Is it all in my head? Does it really matter?
I bide my time and I. counts the days, down, down, down, until my mommy is back in town, to take care of me, and to (breaking her own rules) help me clean my house again, the second time for a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown (and not nearly as cute as Victoria Abreu). There is a new girl kitten to care for, shots to be administered, reproductive apparatuses to be sterilized. We are women, hear us roar. But how we cut each other down, we don't cover our backs, we fail one another too. But sometimes we don't, sometimes we make do, and we give back, and we understand that a problem isn't a solution waiting to happen, but a moment of shared gravity.
Here, incidentally, are the wonderful girls who filled my days with joy, during what seems more like a summer years ago, distant, light years from this, by the Douro, and the Tejo and the Mondego even still, with wind in our hair, and wine in our glasses, and pain, just a little, in our heart. We all came for different reasons, and left just a little bit wholer, for what we found.
I discover, after accepting to cover a companion's class at noon, that it is parent-teacher conference week. How did such a gross detail escape me? How could I have forgotten signing the paper, 12:30, staring me back in my very own letter. I am a zombie, wandering through the days in a half daze. And still the deadlines come, and still I manage to scrape together some semblance of a presentable appearance. Is it all in my head? Does it really matter?
I bide my time and I. counts the days, down, down, down, until my mommy is back in town, to take care of me, and to (breaking her own rules) help me clean my house again, the second time for a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown (and not nearly as cute as Victoria Abreu). There is a new girl kitten to care for, shots to be administered, reproductive apparatuses to be sterilized. We are women, hear us roar. But how we cut each other down, we don't cover our backs, we fail one another too. But sometimes we don't, sometimes we make do, and we give back, and we understand that a problem isn't a solution waiting to happen, but a moment of shared gravity.
Here, incidentally, are the wonderful girls who filled my days with joy, during what seems more like a summer years ago, distant, light years from this, by the Douro, and the Tejo and the Mondego even still, with wind in our hair, and wine in our glasses, and pain, just a little, in our heart. We all came for different reasons, and left just a little bit wholer, for what we found.
posted by ilana at 5:05 p.m.
2 Comments:
Oh my dear,
I hope things turn fo well for you soon. I think of you often and you bring me joy. My friend Gretchen finally is starting the divorce process, and I thank you for giving me words to help her find what she needed. Thank you. She is happier than I have ever seen her.
Naturally a picture with me making a face, one day maybe I will take a normal picture or two. But I doubt it. Hugs and kisses, and all the support that I can send your way.
They'll get better, thanks sweetie. Same here, going back through these photos and missing our nights of talking until it was far too late, dragging our bundas back up that hill through the arco de almedina... It was so perfect meeting you guys. Do you remember what Julie said? It was like we were family, we didn't get to choose, but I couldn't have chosen a better group of people to share my summer (and on...)with. I love you guys (and this is not a drunk me talking!)
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