Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Monday, a Journey

What day is today? I really am having trouble remembering when exactly I am. Ah, Wednesday...


Spent some time in the morning with Geneva's momma, Pam. Having real conversations with adults, especially parents, is very relaxing and important to me. Being at Vassar, we are surrounded by selfish twenty somethings who (myself included) really have no idea about getting along in the "real world". I like to be tempered by my elders. Hell, I grew up surrounded by people at least thirty years older. When Pam left to go back to WV, I ran in the street waving my hands. I think Geneva and Pam really benefited from spending time together. Made me miss my momma, but I'll see my dad soon.

Which reminds me: Sunday, Harrison brought up that he didn't know when we would go to see my daddio and that he would try to maybe find me a car to borrow. (great, a day alone visiting my ill father, sounds like laughter and glee!) That night, I got really upset, thinking I wasn't going to see my dad at all after nine months of being away and him still in the hospital. I cried myself to sleep thinking horrible thoughts, yelling at the imaginary Harrison in my head about something spiteful. I thought about my Granma. I thought about how she essentially committed the longest suicide ever- five years of slowly drawing the blade across her health. Well, I ended up dreaming.

My dream:
I'm in a room that's not in my home, surrounded by little things and people bustling through. I'm wearing the most beautiful dress I have ever seen- black with a bright floral pattern cut in a '50s sort of sundress style. I feel happy, in control. Harrison walks up behind me and starts to give me a kiss. He's out of a relationship with Fern and wants to be with me. We shuffle into a side room to speak for a second. I tell him it is sudden but I do not decline his offer. We pass into the main room again and I begin going through more papers and photos. A bellboy remarks at how affectionate Harrison and I are together as my mother walks into the room wearing a similar dress as I. Harrison leaves saying we'll see each other soon. I pick up a photo of my Granma; she is young and beautiful, in the foreground of an air show on a wide river. It looks to be the twenties in the photo... the photo begins to come alive and I jump into the experience of my Granma on that day...

Planes are flying, skimming the river as they land. I see a small passenger plane clip the ends of it's wings because it landed in a place too narrow. I head into a building, of purpose I am not sure. Everything is so classically beautiful and well kept. There are wrought iron elevators and railings round a square spiraling staircase- the style is art nouveau. For some reason, myself and a suited older man have to carry a delinquent down the hall and take him somewhere within the building. I remember having a secure hold on the young man, waiting endlessly for the passenger elevator so we moved down to the freight elevator. I don't believe much happened after the elevator doors opened to a man and his wife in fur trimmed coats and feathered hats.

Monday was also Guy's birthday. I grew very sad in the morning, recording him a short video where I primarily cried and said "I love you". it's a sore subject that brings me both confusion and security. I do love him though and hope he had a wonderful day with his parents in la Habana.

Late on Monday night, I found myself with Jason and Harrison on a mission to kidnap Harrison's dog for a few days. I really was going for the ride and to see Harrison's family. I really enjoy his father, Howard and his brothers, Zach and Greg. On our trip, Harrison kept referring to me as "the voice of reason". Funny, he usually pays little attention to what I have to say. Nevertheless, Harrison has determined that on our drive down to Austin, there will be three unreasonable men and two very reasonable women. Isn't that how things usually work out? But on the way back from Austin there will only be two unreasonable men and three very prominent women that will surely overpower the dynamics of the boys. I imagine that they will bitch about it to some extent.

The landscape near Monticello is so picturesque and iconic of the Catskills that it becomes my other excuse for visiting Harrison's childhood home. He always brings us to Basherkill, a wide marshy river spotted with isles of deciduous and evergreen. In the summer he says, lily pads cover the surface. Monday night, there were half melted sheets of ice dappling the water between grasses and geese. At one point, Jason and I were testing the echos of our whistles and woke up a small colony of birds. I was reminded of my childhood when I would sing bird calls believing that I was truly having a conversation even though I had no idea of the meanings of the sounds.

Also, Jason and I switched socks.

Eventually, after discussing the differences between trails and roadways, we made tracks to Harrison's house. The voice of reason said that if we are going to inevitably wake up Howard and Greg, might as well do it late at night and not early in the morning. Howard is a giver is a provider is an enabler. He'll do everything for his sons and always greets me with a kiss on the cheek. Zoe, the dog we had driven to kidnap, lay asleep in my arms for the majority of our time at the Siegel homestead while I snacked on a sandwich in the kitchen. I miss having animals and understand Harrison's desire to bring Zoe back to Vassar for a few days of break, but she had groomer appts the next day and Howard wouldn't give her up. I also can understand the bond between a man and his dog. Harrison wasn't really thinking things through about the situation anyway. To his surprise, the voice of reason brought up that we'd need to bring Zoe's food and something little of hers so she would feel secure in the new environment. I really think he just imagined the dog as a plant that he could water once in awhile, and it would go on existing merrily.

Howard loaded us up with food but no puppy. We piled in the car, and the boys began to teach me stick. It took me a little while to get moving, but they seemed surprise at the speed I picked it up. The clutch is still a little weird. It doesn't feel natural yet which only practice will correct. Hopefully, I can go out with Geneva in her car (the car we are taking on the road) to practice and hopefully, to feel more comfortable. I drove all the way, in the night on back roads, to Harrison's mom's house. He couldn't remember the combination and rang the doorbell twice. Finally, we made it inside and met Dave, Arlen (harrison's mom)'s boyfriend. He had produced a gun like we had been joking he might do. Arlen wasn't there; Harrison said he could feel it before we even went inside. All of the spaces Harrison inhabited during his childhood are extremely designed, sleek, intentional. I can't imagine having a home as such since I grew up in a much more organic living space. We had some new things, but they were bought so they'd go with the antique hand-me-down furniture that we carried from my papa's. Our knickknacks are bought over lifetimes and many things are handcrafted and weathered. ...Just makes me want to say Richie Rich.

The boys decided to take the long way home. I fell asleep in the back for about an hour.

The worst thing to have happen as the capstone of an evening happened to me. It wasn't completely devastating, but it sure did ruin my mood and uplift from a night of the open road, forest, and family. I stepped in the mud that connects my house to A2 and sunk deep in the soft ground. I was stuck and the mud was freezing and encapsulating my feet. Jason did throw me a plate to try and step on, otherwise, I wasn't given much aid in getting out of the mess. In fact, the boys said they were trying to lighten my mood by cracking jokes. I almost cried as I was trying to beat off the excess mud from my shoes (they and my hands were completely covered in mud) and told them that their jokes weren't making me feel better. How can standing back and laughing make someone feel good about having to dig herself out of freezing mud?

After the mud, we drank some limeade and called it a night.

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