that's mrs. mediocrity to you

This past weekend, in the Adirondacks, this is what I saw when I woke up every morning.

I slept with the window open, all three nights, even though it was chilly and even though on the first night, apparently I stole all the covers and my husband was freezing.

But I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help wanting to hear the wind whispering through the trees. Couldn’t help wanting to smell the scent of trees and forest and the nearby lake. Couldn’t help wishing that I was sleeping right out there, under the trees and the stars.

The stars that were visible, so visible, up there away from city lights and pollution, the Milky Way clear as day. Well, okay not clear as day, but very clearly swirling its way across the universe.

The air smells different there, clean and crisp. At home, where I live, it is the country and the air here is very fresh and clean, but, still, you can smell the difference, there in the mountains.

I lay there each night, after everyone else was asleep, lay there for hours actually, because I couldn’t sleep, and looked out this same window, in the dark, thinking and listening.

I used to be afraid of windows at night. When I was a very young teenager I saw a movie about witches and there was a scene involving a window at night that took me years to get over. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. For years, afterwards, well before dark I made sure that every blind and curtain was closed.

Silly me.

Look what I missed.

Now is the Moon’s Eyebrow.
When my son was little, we had that book by Cooper Edens.
I have always loved that line.

Another book, The Vanishing Pumpkin by Tony Johnston.
“Please do,” growled the ghoul.
I have always loved that line as well, I used to say it out loud
all the time. People looked at me funny.

And this one, from the same book: In fact, she fairly flew.
This happens when I run, every once in a while.

The Sky Jumps Into Your Shoes When You Take Them Off at Night.
Another book, also by Cooper Edens.

The Caretakers of Wonder. Another one, same author.

Why don’t they write books like that for adults?

Books you can barely find these days, treasures that lie forgotten.

Words change your life, sometimes.
You read them and they imprint themselves on your mind.

Her pupils were two black thorns turned inward.
The Witches of Eastwick by John Updike.

The Moon and Sixpence by W. Somerset Maugham.
A book I have never forgotten.

Lines that speak to the soul in you, written from the soul of
the writer. This connection that keeps humans, human.
Speech.

My cats talk to me, they express their needs, their desires.
But that nuance of words and language, that is for the artists.

Almost, I would rather read Vincent Van Gogh’s letters
than look at his paintings. Almost.

How many combinations are possible, with words?
At some point the human race will start to repeat itself.
It has to, or else invent more words.

But fire speaks the language of us all.

This is not open to interpretation, it is fire.

It has kept us all alive.

Besides, now is the moon’s eyebrow.

::

What’s your favorite line?