come back
in journal
last summer i stumbled upon a small store in.. well if i say where it will sounds like i am making it up or am trying to sound fancy or whatever but the point is i found it and in it was the most amazing collection of clothing. in hindsight, i should have known: the wooden sign for the store was swinging in such a way, it was clear something was afoot. initially we walked past it - me staring at the sign as we approached and then passed it, hurrying to our lunch reservation, big group party, careful of the cobbled stones, hurry hurry etc - but then ten steps passed i stopped, said i would meet them there, and ran back, holding my then-four year old’s hand. we walked in and both immediately gasped. she because it was mostly flouncy dresses and looked like clothing fairies would wear and me because.. well it looked like clothing fairies would wear. but not the sparkling glittery going-to-a-ball-every-night kind of fairy but rather the kind of fairy that lives out at the edge of the woods, in a house that is part tree roots and part stone and moss. and this fairy is like an herbalist and/or a midwife and she has lots of crockery and two maybe three cats max. she lives alone, takes no nonsense, is always busy, often barefoot, always ready to laugh, etc. also she kind of dresses like it is the 80s but in earth tones only. like an extra in a duran duran video, but friendlier though not particularly in a super smiley way.
of course i wanted to buy everything. of course there was a proprietress and of course she was this cool older lady. i was envious of her, this life i totally imagined she had, that she had created. i tried on half a dozen outfits, my daughter said i looked beautiful in them (she is a straight shooter. she has told me many times she prefers me without my glasses. even after i got new ones.) she said i should get them all. at $100, $200 a pop, not gonna happen. i sighed though maybe a small bit happily just knowing such a store exists, spotted a sales basket, dug out a pair of $20 cotton pants that could be worn front or back (!!), bought said pants without even trying them on, asked if the store was online (they are not), and left in a rushed daze.
the odds are i will never return there, it is so far away, and i am not alas a woodland or forest fairy so probably within a week or so i would just piss people off. but in my heart of hearts, i dress like that and when i am dead and gone, i will defffffinitely dress like that, because, once bleached, it is perfect haunting clothing.
oh and of course not even two weeks later i left those beloved pants at my childhood house the day my mother moved from there and am doubtful i will ever see them again. ahh.
all of this to say i want to remember the things i love, the things that i have always gravitated to. that is, not individual things but the categories, the topics etc, however frivolous. it is amazing how one can forget such things. like last year i read 10 books. t-e-n. 1 and 0. and that is including the four i read in december and the two textbooks i read in class. and i didn’t even realize this fact until december. that might be the worst part.
i feel like it has been years now, maybe since the babies were born, maybe before or after, maybe just from getting older, time passing - but anyhow it feels like years now since i.. i don’t even know what it is. maybe it is: i want to rediscover the pure joy i used to feel and i want to feel it regularly. i wasn’t a particularly happy kid or teen or 20-something (for suuuure) but there were moments of joy, of pure happiness, of wonder, of deep happy sighs, of hours spent following my nose and getting lost in things. to be clear, i get joy and love still, often in fact, from my family and sometimes even from nature, if i am looking hard enough. but also, i wrinkle my forehead too much. i pull my mouth tight. i tense my shoulders. i clench my fists. things need to change. i think i need to find me again in a way. joy is probably the wrong word and pure added to it is most likely ridiculous. the deep happy sigh is closer to what i mean maybe, not sure - or the following my nose thing. not sure.
and so anyhow i am reading a lot. and i am remembering that clothing shop. and i am listening to more music. and i am trying to welcome all the old loves i gave up somewhere along the way - the inappropriate footwear, the curly doodles i used to draw everywhere (last year i remember i could only find triangle and harsh squares doodling. the curls were just not in me anymore.) and who knows what else i have dropped along the way, thinking they would always be there, waiting for me. come back to me, i am still me, i want to cry. i just forgot and got busy and maybe gave away too much of me but now i am here and back and i need you too, so that the me that moves forward, that -can- move forward, is all of me.
something like that. sorry for the vagueness of it all. as much as it bothers you, it bothers me more. am still trying to figure it out. ~~ bye
