Hey, Nineteen

I woke one morning and it was perfectly clear to me that my life, currently, is a harrowing redux of my world at 19 – fitfully pointing a lens at my world with unconscious intent but too scared to believe in what I see, with no idea how to earn a living and support myself, or how to settle into what I am meant to become.  Tonight I realized how ironically apt the comparison is:  just like my last days in the family apartment,  I even live walking distance from the nightclub (where, I grant you,  there is generally less nose candy, and a LOT more knitting, but still…).  And I when I see her, I wish with all my heart she had taken more joy and pictures in the life she had.

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Necessary but Not Sufficient

taken on my phone, anniversary of marv's death

Necessary but not sufficient.  I think we all understand the condition this logic describes, especially after a dose of the existential elixir, Vino.  Nonetheless, checking my premise with Wikipedia was the bloggerly thing to do, lest I splash out too far in my claims of philosophical insight.  By doing so, I can now confirm I have officially reached an age when concepts which are too smart for me, make my vision swim, and send me looking for a knitting book with lots of pictures.

An elegant model to calculate how many leaves are expendable before a tree starves surely exists, yet it seems obvious that nature’s strategy is to cover that deficit and then some…each leaf is necessary, though not sufficient to ensure continued life.  I think.  As I have learned this year, I am just a little leaf, but I do think the tree needs me.  The whispers of all the other leaves, brushing against the wind and bearing much of the storm, sheltering and protecting me, have reassured me again and again that together, we are sufficient and each of us necessary to the other.  Amidst kindnesses too many to number, shared so generously by all my family and friends, I join my own modest whisper to yours, and send it out into the mystery…”Thank You.”

Teak Buffet, At Your Service

Understated, Danish, and, well, sexy, Teak Buffet was at the center of our decorating scheme during my marriage, and the centrality of our decorating scheme to the happiness of my marriage cannot be over-emphasized.  Teak Buffet promised an elegant life, carefully honed to envelope all the important things, and exclude the superfluous.  Seeing it always made me imagine cocktails, neckties, and everything in its place.  How i longed to live up to the expectations Teak Buffet set.  Yes, I know.  I was, in fact, married to Teak Buffet.

Finding Teak Buffet was the fulfillment of many dreams.  It proved i was capable of staking a claim to the very early morning hours, shoulder to shoulder with the dealers.  It proved that i had an eye…whatever that means.  More sinisterly, it also proved i had some usefulness in my relationship.  If i couldn’t produce enough income to support a more perfect, mid-century ranch, i could at least supply the perfect furnishings at low, low prices.   Or so i thought the bargain went.

Teak Buffet bore witness to the unspoken dialogue of my relationship like a lawyer, or a three year old.  There was not much sophisticated gaiety.  No neckties.  Nothing was ever in its place.  Little did I realize the booby prize i brought with me when i moved Teak Buffet into my post divorce home.  It constantly reminded me,  “hope divided by disappointment equals psychic pain.”

Time surrounded Teak Buffet with an air of permanence which seemed impenetrable, as if i had been born lugging the thing like an umbilical cord.  So i think the only person more surprised than my ex-husband that I didn’t want it any more, was me.  Teak Buffet left my apartment yesterday, and while i feel some pangs of loneliness, its absence is a relief.  To let go of what you will never have, of what you are hoping will be, and just look at the empty wall, is like breathing…unconflicted, and obviously necessary, once you have spent enough time trying not to do it.

Poor Teak Buffet.  I hope the ex doesn’t fill it with anything more than napkins.