from
The Ashes of Drafts
exactly 1 month ago
👣
Old Sole Sandwich of Emotional Sobriety
b-read
meet
le pain
Ro is ten and about to graduate from the 5th grade. Our feet are the same size. I looked it up, and a youth size 5 is the same length as a women's size 7. I have worn a size 7 shoe since the 7th grade. Seventh grade is the last time I grew in height as well. I was and am 5 foot, 4 and a half inches tall, although I say five-five 4 ease. Ro is 4 foot 11.
Ro is a tense, in many ways, young man. I have rubbed his feet and body since he was small; his brother's too. Ro is loudly dramatic, emotes all sorts of sounds during, then after curls in my lap where I stroke his ears like he's a kitten-boy. He's my baby. And he has always been a serious guy.
On the rub above ⌃ I used a little jar of Dragon Balm, picked up when I last saw my NYC herbalist. The packaging is way chic. Ro said his heels were what really hurt, and they often do, he'll walk on tippy toes, though I felt the knot stemming from the ball of his foot. Up and under the ball, most inside there. I massaged with icy-hot as much as he would allow before tucking him into his makeshift bed on the floor. No cots available here. Shea will do anything to sleep beside me whereas his brother likes his space. So I washed my hands to play with Ro's hair and be gentle-gentle on his ears before a night next to Shea, super kitten-like.
FOOT PROBLEMS
Fear of the future
and of not stepping forward in life.
"I move forward in life,
with joy and with ease."
You Can Heal Your Life
by Louise Hay
The night I snapped these shots ⌃ we were in Los Angeles, at a SureStayⓇ close to the boys' baseball practice park. Ro said it's called SureStayⓇ because people leave the park and say, with some sense of defeat, "Sure, I'll stay here." We stayed there to test locational convenience > all else — testing a theory for my inevitable (part-time?) return. Would-We-Could-We rent a dumpy Dingbat Apartment within walking distance of their private school in The Valley? Morning smoothies 2go and A Regular Mom wearing stretch pants? This Mom would meditate at the school chapel before the student (parents welcome) morning service. A quick power walk home carrying three dirty 2go cups. The Dingbat would have to have a pool to combat roasting alive. One thing might lead to another and maybe I would submit to being who their father thinks he wants me to be when I am being A Los Angeles Mom. Antidepressants and a desk job is doable, or it's not. I could spend my entire salary on childcare thanks to asinine school and baseball schedules.
C☸G-M☸M-I-Am.
The writer's strike was and is still going on. A group of striking writers marched outside of Television CityⓇ holding signs asking all the cars to "HONK IN SUPPORT". Much honking, next to the park and across from the SureStayⓇ, ceasing at 5:00 PM on the ⏺
HooooonK H00000nK just like the geese I saw as my first heroic dose of mushrooms kicked in. I heard these geese before I saw them in the sky. I prayed, show me you, please let me see you, as some sign "I GOT THIS". Yes, spied in a clearing through the trees, thank you. And when I looked down again I spotted a real marigold who had sprouted up inside the enclosed garden. The ⁕ had not been there in the morning. A day of the dead converging with a night flight home is pretty cool stuff.
I share energy karma with Ro. Hypervigilance like a crazy person that I forget about until it stares back at me. This is how your son feels. This is his tightness. You must work harder to absolve the root pain. The shape-shifting fire seems to jump onto the Eastern European thrifted (long) frock I wore as ceremonial garb. Real ticks climbed aboard my sinking ship (pooling).
"Am I on fire?" "Only on the inside," answered Luar. He was night flight tripping with me as a guide. Gunshots and dog barks freaking as the light faded in the country.
We sat in a circle on his partner Lydia's land. Daughter & Father & Mother per design of the set & setting. "Lydia, do you have a fire extinguisher?" She laughs, "I'm a run with scissors gal." Grip less and surrender more to the apocalypse only after Spirit reminds me I bought menopausal Iris her first automobile fire extinguisher for any please-no hot flashes — and Iris is dutifully parked close by, at my back. "Go off," she nudges. Chemical-glazed, bug-laden. All of me and everywhere putrid. All the bugs killed from pesticides. My embroidered hemline smoking. They said I held myself as still and quiet as anything.
I scheduled 🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄 before my last boy-time visit in Los Angeles and imbibed after, a weepy heap exhausted with carrying panic everywhere I go and back and forth all year. Feeling poisoned by 1 place and seeking the antidote in the other, but that cannot be right or is it? Put it down, for Ro. Sabbatical midterms in the Virginian backwoods. I passed and get to go for 126 more days.
2 Sandwiches I Enjoyed A Lot
On My Latest Boy-Time Visit in Los Angeles
despite the heavy backpack labeled PANIC
cheesy meatloaf
sliced and topped with caramelized onions
iceberg lettuce
and our special 10,000 lakes dressing
on country white bread
$17.25
crispy marinated tofu
chickpea spread
pickled carrot
daikon
cucumber
cilantro
mint
scallion
kewpie
pickled Fresno chili
served on a French roll
$13.00
P.S. Ro graduated wearing a beautiful medium blue suit with a pale blue shirt that we picked out together, and navy Vans size 6! purchased with dad. He said Vans run small, so they're the size equivalent to Nike's size 5 1/2, and his dad got him a fresh pair of those too. Ro has already packed them for his summer with me and Shea in Maryland. Gorgeous barn cat-boys.
u can heel ur life
Labels: 4, ashes of drafts, embroidered, feather feet, gIRL mess, Iris, P.S., pain, palmtreeReader, SonClub, SOS
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