since all of our life is private, our intent is to restore a trauma-informed home evironment. that isn't done overnight. it took me several years. and sometimes it's missing someone(s), like a tooth gone from a smile makes you apt to smile less. if you're lucky, it's someone you haven't met yet so there's a hopefulness around the air pocket(s). or it's loss more likely. loss maybe of even [part(s) of] your self. but then you need safe habor even more. so either way, grieving or brimming, you build it. and as you do, what is missing is felt more. a set of hands, guiding spirits, whatever the absence.
he wants to build a mancave downstairs that's for playing. gaming obviously but more than that, playing, board games and...
me: and what?, just say it
him: fooseball
me: (virgo response) https://www.instructables.com/Foosball-Table-DIY/ then you'd have to make that first while all that's down there is a complete woodworking shop with saws n shit that you inherited remember?
him: I know, I just kinda don't know one saw from another :/
and my dad is gone, so, the "fix" for that is not obvious to either of us
me: I'll set an alert on craigslist
he builds a fire every day. I read. I am thinking about Books and Islands, which on second read is 💯 a biography of her lover. so much so that his own son's biography now reads like a rebuttal. hers is wholly private. his is a PSA announcement in which she is excised from the record. the woman carried in his mind and visible nowhere else. and she believes she is carried there, inside him, but she can't know that really. she writes it, in a buttzillion ways, men whose love is absolute if nothing else, even if in no way can you see it. read enough of that, you'd believe in that too.
me: do you remember the pond?
him: fuck yeah
me: do you remember me walking out that backdoor with a shovel?
him: who doesn't? and I can see where you're going, and yes.
me: like hand you a shovel and we just..
him: yes.
me: ok.
him: how did you make the waterfall?
me: the dirt from the hole makes a pile..
him: got it.
me: I dont't know how he did the plumbing...
him: we'll cross that bridge.
me: ok.
him: right in the middle of the yard, I can bury the electric from the garage back corner 🤔
me: ok. we'll have to put a low gate around it for the kids
him: we did before. that will always be true, there's always kids
me: somehow I have no people but always tons of kids
him: 🤭 I can see why ya like Mary, soo much immaculate conception
me: shut up
us: 😅😅
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| what's for dinner is a big deal. every small thing is a big deal, it could trigger comfort or safety or grief or love or humor or all that at once. everything that touches a person matters. everything made is by hand and thought about with 💞 |
my day took a shit, an upgrade at work midsemester just wrecked half of every workflow, I can't get into my classes, my boss emailed all my students to come to him today if they need anything from me. that is going to fuck up Wed-Fri royally. but today it means more cookie baking and reading, always reading. even Ears is starting to believe in my following the cat. unless Erdrich knew Cumkwat before 1991, which I have pretty exhaustively proven she could not have based on his and her movements in that timeframe, she summoned him. nobody will believe that, but I am not interested in 'proving' it. Moses Pillager and his island of cats came first, and then came the man who fit his description almost exactly. how she did that is a spell that I got bound by too somehow.
