Grateful for a day spent with friend And family. Grateful for the beauty In this life. Amazed at how life just keeps changing, And uncertain. Amazed changes make me feel I'm left aside. Frightened of how lonely has returned And deepened. Frightened my strengths fall short, I'm just tired.
Morning spent tracking down items For her new home, spent just time Being together Went to see a house by the water but In a place I can't see me. Lately there Isn't such place Beyond where we were last. And going Beyond that alone as I am now is Just beyond wearying.
Left to do the child things: set table, Fill water glasses, stay out Of the way. And I do so, as I watch the two swing Gracefully through their preparations with Little help needed. Family comes, we eat and visit, all good. I clean and wash, put away dishes and Stash my memories.
Not being part of this circle here Has thrown me out of what little Orbit I have. So I am left doing nothing these days But skirt the rim of despair Circling my soul. I have kept my place learning Living alone but must allow how Loneliness nips sharp.
Morning coffee with my mother, Then my aunt arrives and they Are very busy, The two together in good harmony And I realize how little I can or Need to contribute. More deeply felt is the realization How little I am needed here. Not that I ever was.
These days, for differing reasons Friends, health, are coming to a Differing of ways, But have in common: As I am not integral to others, I have not Considered my own health Integral to me. My own fault on all sides, As I haven’t the knack Anymore of asking for help or Being of help.
I have made one particularly bad choice These past years, that has gotten me, Yet, exactly how It will show, remains to be see. But health as I have known it is coming To a close, As, all relationships between all things, Frankly, come to change to what seems best for them. Of course I jump to whatever Seems worst, without knowing All the details.
These long days, months, years I have learned When the evening closes, it is me alone with hopes Outweighed by fears. For each step taken in light another is shadowed, Pulled back I am left wondering why and Where shall I go. Oh for moments to hours again in contentment. Dusted with happy enough to spill sweetly Into morning next.
Put away part of the show I will use next year I hope this exhibition will happen, some notice of Where I live. Clean around the studio and the kitchen, Moving through this space, my space, With certain familiarity, But also, still, with a hesitation born of knowing How it was with us here, and failing for just Me content here.
Wake to clear blue skies Pack my show into the back of the car. Load dogs, go. Stop to lunch with your old friend, now mine, Still our financial advisor, his wife and daughter Make time, too. I deliver a painting they bought, That they are thrilled with. My book is In his office.
An amazing amount of rain this day, water Runs down the beautiful north window of My friend’s studio. Between errands, we paint, working while Music and the patter of rain makes Background noises perfect. And "we" you must well know is not A royal "we", more hurting, but we, only the Ordinary everyday "we".
Should have gotten on the road today but too tired, Just wasn’t going to happen. I’m going, because? I’m staying, because? Because I still need to move, even as I know, I need more often now to be still. An inner fight Not always controlled.
Another draggy day The hours slip by and I Am hanging in. For what, I can not always say. Really? For what? For more Long hours alone? Why does your death still affect Me so? Why? Why? Because you are so Twined into me.
Slept in and read through the morning, A morning of mists and grayness And warm blankets. Cats snuggle and dogs sleep, then Friends come to plink at the back board. I shot well. Another evening with hours to spend, Mostly okay alone but feel I am waiting, But for what.
Read throughout the day, then prepare Dinner in a new tagine I just bought. Spices and herbs Mixed into a marinade to make A Moroccan meal for a friend. Food and wine, A few hours of company, An evening of conversation, then Bed and book.
Rode with a friend, on that black horse, Rode through the autumn day Under clear skies Do I still like here? On some levels, yes. Yes, for the views, the space, the beauty, for You having been Here, and hate it for you being here now only In my heart yet rode these paths remembering You were here.
Checking into treatments, but Who can afford this? Cost more than most Have to retire. Spent the evening at an art show Showing support and seeing some friends Before heading home. Home, here, this is where I live Home was always us and now only me. Am I home?
A fine, rainy day and I puttered through out it inside, The dogs nearby, dozing in a heap by my feet. Tired this day From a cold and not enough sleep. Walk Arlo By the wet field sides allowing the soft grays To envelope me In quietness and stillness of color and sound. Allowing myself to slip softly through the hours Okay with myself.
Our dog, my dog now, is doing well. I helped again A friend redo her shop’s walls with art from local artists. A good thing. Small times spent with others in various endeavors, Which fill time well but not, not as well as it did with you. I miss that.
Our dog heals well, is happy today and I can only continue To wonder how I keep this from happening again. Can only do All possible to keep him safe. Yet how safe are any of us. Really. We are only so safe and ever skirting edges of a fragility ready to Reach up hard And tumble us through passages that just may be capable Of taking us away permanently. Leaving those behind to Ever cry silently.
Oh how hard I relied on you, and you on me, to present A front, a solidarity of two who held each others back, were Each our wingman. It is hard, I can tell you, flying with only one wing, hard. Hard to deal with the useless circling because of how I slowly Learn to compensate. With you I knew always you would hold me up over rough ground. Now I must need ask others for help which is Just so hard.
A quiet day here, taking care of our dog. I speak of these moments to you as if you are nearby Ready to hear What I need to tell. Actually, I need to tell you It is not always easy, and I stumble and wonder. And miss you. And learn to live with you only within and to rely On only me without. It is often still confusing. Meanwhile, Your dog heals.
The Studio at Line's End Farm is where I paint and try to find some joy again, and some equilibrium, not simple these days. One weblog records thoughts, ideas, methods and mixtures, palettes, observations, actually anything that intrigues me concerning my painting and working in the studio. Another observes only the horse in paintings that I find influential. The last are done for my sanity. All are my opinion only, open to other suggestions.