It was a good weekend altogether, one that could have gone either way up or down and it went brightly mostly finely all the timely. I just did normal things and nothing much more than ordinary happened which made it weird. Well, there was Saturday night when O and I went to T's house, T of the Beautiful Piano's house, to meet her to drive with her to go meet other people to see a movie and once there I completely lost my footing and didn't like it. But T had asked O to come because she didn't want to go by herself, and O asked me to come because she didn't want to drive there by herself, and by this time I'm wondering what really do you see that is more appealing than being by one's self, but that was my solitarian talking so I went. And like I said... footing.
But I did see the Beautiful Piano for a moment. Closed with a lonely metronome on its ledge. That house is so quiet.
This morning K sat at the kitchen table, complacently scribbling at her homework and wearing a red flowerish dress, a black curly wig and a big maroon hat with a bow. I didn't laugh out loud because it was actually quite pretty, in a ridiculous way. She and I understand this. This laughing or not laughing or laughing quietly or laughing forte, and sometimes just the opposite.
I cried a few weeks ago when she read out loud no winging out the way of butterflies no sudden blindfold-lifting from the eyes from my notebook of favorite things. She didn't see me and asked, why didn't you write in here I had a little nut tree and nothing would it bear but a silver nutmeg which is her favorite poem she can recite by heart. I don't think that's silly because she always has a reason for liking what she does and a reason for doing what she does. Once when I sat in the dark of my room, the narrow door light crept silently wider and she stole to me... Chris... and thinking me asleep she left a kiss on my cheek that calmed my heart and scampered back to the light. Also because she says things like "you know dandelion seeds, wouldn't it be fun to fly on one you'd land so softly". And because sometimes she is my only child and sometimes all the parents I have.
One more - I sat on my floor one evening weeks ago trying to be my best sorry (or my sorry best) and I told K mournfully there is just so much going on; but CandyMan was on the radio and she, jumping all over the room, told me, "Well, you just gotta DANCE through it!" It was the best advice ever.