It rained and rained today, softly rattling the leaves that haven't quite turned yet, and it was warm enough to have the window open but cool enough to remind me that the thin, curved leaves on the trees across the street will be warm orange flames soon.
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I was walking to work, cranky and unfed, and then I looked up and saw the waning gibbous moon, mirror-bright and sharp-edged in the crisp blue sky, and I could almost feel it in my hand, cool and smooth and round and heavy against my palm.
I walked past the school garden, beyond exhausted and feeling low, and there were still so many dahlias, unwrapping their shiny green leaves and making so many different kinds of petals, and then the knot in my stomach was gone and I was just tired.
I got home from the dance late and stood, exhausted, in my quiet room in the silent house and breathed in and realized I could smell them on me, on my cheek, where it had brushed against their neck, and then I was back at the dance, moving together.
I saw the storm clouds coming in while I was at work, and they swirled and knotted as I walked home, and it started to rain, just a few fat drops smacking down hard on the pavement, as I reached the door. We propped it open so we could smell the rain and started making dinner, and then there was a huge crash of thunder and we ran out to the porch and the world was a waterfall full of blue lightning, and we leaned over the railing to catch the water in our hands and shivered, laughing.
I was warm and safe and dry and comfortable and loved and the first real rain of the year was tapping on the window.
We sat on the pier under the freeway towers, feeling the river all around us and remembering, and the cold wind whipped our hair around as we let go of the year and dropped yellow curls of dead leaves into the water and watched the current pull them away, making space for something new.
I decided to go to the queer mikveh event at the last minute, and I got so, so lost trying to get there, and there were huge golden fields and a big herd of running goats and a sunflower farm and pumpkins ripening in rows and cows, lots of cows, and ospreys. Then I found the beach and I was so, so late, but not too late, and we went out into the cold water together and I breathed and watched the sun sparkle until I was ready and then I went under and came up and covered my face with my hands to make a quiet space for the first blessing, and then I went under twice more and said the second blessing, and people were in little groups, singing and saying blessings and chanting blessings, and someone was carrying their dog in the water, and finally we all got out, and someone gave me a pickle, and someone else gave me apples and honey, and we sat naked in the sun and felt new.
We walked home from dinner, with me still floating from the day, and the chilly air felt like fall.
I finished the last frantic task of the day and then I was DONE and I went outside and stood in the rain.
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AuthorBitter Water
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. Archives
June 2019
Categories© Francie Nevill and Every Sweet Thing, 2017.
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