Saturday, September 13, 2003
yesterday i said goodbye to my parents. it was not as hard as it might have been, and i felt far more happy than sad. the small distress that poked through was at suddenly not believing that they could possibly know how much this slightly deformed person loves the two of them, sweet and graying and fully flawed and . . . sometimes when i try to talk about my family, i feel like i spent some time living inside a movie no one else saw. i have no vocabulary for it. it was the three of us against the world, end of story.
but it was that way again, for a minute. holding my mother and my dad's arms around me, with the sun almost harsh on my face (and me thinking, however melodramatically, this is the sun of the place i was born, i can actually feel it) and both of them so close that when i opened my eyes, both their faces were right there, warped and too large. for a second, it felt like who we are was real.
today has been the last day in seattle. i had breakfast with B., and it was hard to say goodbye, but what was maybe harder was driving to the next errand and seeing lake union so goddamned gorgeous--just the best day seattle makes, the one where it's sunny but not over seventy five and the water is even more sparkle than it is blue, and you can see the ravages of the kalakala and the skyline from one hill. i pulled over and went down to the burke-gilman trail to walk for a bit and called the best one, then the monkey, then my folks. sometimes, it's much harder to leave the place of this place than it is any of the terribly more worthwhile people it holds inside it.
i got the car washed and polished, inside and out, and the inside smells like pee to me. i'm sure it's really a sort of cleaning solution that is not actually pee, but i'm worried that ever since Ye house of olde worlde cat pee, i am doomed to phantom urea.
i'm on my way out the door. it only feels a little like flesh is tearing. i am pretty happy about where i'm going.
on january 28 i wrote to the best one, "well, you know what they fucking say. if you love something, go let it live in new york for a while."
this story has the best ending ever in my life.
but it was that way again, for a minute. holding my mother and my dad's arms around me, with the sun almost harsh on my face (and me thinking, however melodramatically, this is the sun of the place i was born, i can actually feel it) and both of them so close that when i opened my eyes, both their faces were right there, warped and too large. for a second, it felt like who we are was real.
today has been the last day in seattle. i had breakfast with B., and it was hard to say goodbye, but what was maybe harder was driving to the next errand and seeing lake union so goddamned gorgeous--just the best day seattle makes, the one where it's sunny but not over seventy five and the water is even more sparkle than it is blue, and you can see the ravages of the kalakala and the skyline from one hill. i pulled over and went down to the burke-gilman trail to walk for a bit and called the best one, then the monkey, then my folks. sometimes, it's much harder to leave the place of this place than it is any of the terribly more worthwhile people it holds inside it.
i got the car washed and polished, inside and out, and the inside smells like pee to me. i'm sure it's really a sort of cleaning solution that is not actually pee, but i'm worried that ever since Ye house of olde worlde cat pee, i am doomed to phantom urea.
i'm on my way out the door. it only feels a little like flesh is tearing. i am pretty happy about where i'm going.
on january 28 i wrote to the best one, "well, you know what they fucking say. if you love something, go let it live in new york for a while."
this story has the best ending ever in my life.
