minutesofhoney

Archive for February, 2014|Monthly archive page

One Degree Day

In Life on February 12, 2014 at 3:14 pm

A one degree day: sky white as baking paper,Image snow drifting from rooftops, muddy mountain ranges on front walks, chimneys reaching, scarves hanging, Imageflannel blankets draping, chicken soup bubbling, mugs of tea cooling. unfinished knitting waiting in old sewn bags on doorknobs.

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I am fond

In Life, Milwaukee, Music on February 10, 2014 at 1:52 pm

A little writing composed two summers ago (fittingly wishful-gazing for these February days, although surely the chilly sky outside my window now is as blue as I’ve ever seen it, and the naked tree branches reaching above the rooftops as majestic for their bare bones) – 

I am fond of this little house.

I moved in in December. I brought my guitar, I brought silverware, a bedspread, rugs. I brought books. I brought antique lamps made from brass and marble and fire hydrants. I brought pictures I wasn’t sure how to hang. I brought hopes and fears.

Today is July. I am in a nighttime room with soft green walls that look like mint ice cream, you want to lick them, or new leaves by a pond in England. My tabletop fan swirs as faithfully as a child. There is a painting on the wall above my gaze; I painted it in the 10th grade and called it ‘Hope’. There were a lot of fears moving in, just like the inky blackness surrounding the edges of the painting, but just like the center – a faded patch of light – my fears have also been swirling inward from the eddy of darkest night.

I feel concretely ok that I am not in love. I have a beautiful home that is a nest, that is a nighttime cocoon that wants nothing more from me than to inhabit each room. I want to fill this house with my potential, which is all it ever asked of me, I want to muddy its walls in song, to fling pitch and promise on them like eggs breaking into multicolored yolks. I want to steady its air with words. To match the peace of this room with the promise I carry inside. I want to let this house know that I am ready to be in love with it. I was the darkness on the edge of the painting, and I see now that it is the light.