Creatures and Cherry Blossoms

So one funny thing about all this which is not at all funny. I mean besides your style in telling it. And I also mean funny as in weird, not funny haha. So one funny thing is that Mom and Dad (two names that work something like letters do according to Roland Barthes, "treasures of the symbol" and magical fairies and all that), well, they got a little dog a little over a month ago now. She's a year old, and it looks like she's going to stay little. I'm terrible when it comes to breeds, so I'm not going to be able to tell you exactly what breed she is. But she's damn cute. Even T, who's not a big dog person, couldn't help but be into her. I mean she's like one of my parents' last projects together, and she runs around the kitchen and den because she's not allowed into the rest of the house yet. And she leaps up onto the sofa and nestles right behind your neck. There's a picture of her doing just that over Dad's shoulder. If she's feeling frisky she licks your ear and makes you go aqmdlkqflkmdfj when she does that. Which was a nice unavoidable kind of thing to have happen in between bouts of tears. Turns out that the day of my father's funeral she was scheduled to be spayed. Which was weird timing, but also good timing since that was the day the house was really filled with people. And my brother-in-law took her in early and went and picked her up at the end of the day when the house had mostly emptied out. Just close friends of my Mom's and of the family who it was nice to see around. Not so much because I like them in particular, but because it seemed to indicate that Mom would have people around when she's going to need them. And among those people there was my aunt. My Mom's sister. T and I call her my ex-lesbian aunt. Because she used to live with a woman when she lived in California. And now she's married. But she never really came out. Even once there was also me. And now she's married to this real jerk that nobody likes. I don't even think she does. Like him, I mean. When I once mentioned her in analysis, the voice behind my head protested. "EX-lesbienne !!!" my shrink, who's a lesbienne, said. As if that were not possible. She's also probably got an alcohol problem. Like her father. Which tends to make Mom crazy. Anyway, at the moment, and it's a moment that's lasted for a little while now, there's a woman that's living with her and her husband. Which is a weird scene. Because everybody knows that she's living with her but she has no named function and in spite of that my aunt brought her over the night after the funeral and after the dog got spayed. My aunt's friend works in a vet's office. Which is how she met my aunt. Long story. Weird southern Gothic. Because my aunt's husband that nobody likes ended up killing their two dogs. Left them in a hot car. And my aunt ended up bonding with this woman at the vet clinic. When she brought them in. Maybe a year or so ago. But this friend of my aunt's made my Mom mad the day of my father's funeral because she overrode the vet's orders and fed the dog a little bit even though we'd been told she wasn't supposed to eat. And she went back to her place to get a cone for her head. This is the funny not haha but weird part. Because it, too, involves a cone around a creature's head. She said the dog was nibbling on her stitches and that she wasn't supposed to. And so she put a cone around her head. My youngest sister took it off fairly promptly. And watched her to make sure she wasn't licking her stitches too much. Even though she also had her two five-month-old twins to be looking after. When I wasn't. Looking after them, I mean. Because I went whole-hog on the whole Uncle routine. Throwing them into the air. Tickling their necks. Making them smile. Singing them songs. Letting the boy suck my thumb while he made nonsense sounds that no doubt made a lot of sense to him. Thank goodness for all of these creatures. And a big get well soon to you and yours.

Oh, and the cherry blossoms. On the way to the cemetery. Everything in bloom on a beautiful warm spring day. Warm enough for the blossoms already ready to make their way down. Blowing in the wind and falling to the ground. I in the car. With lots of my family. Humming in my corner of the car. Watching blossoms fall to the ground. "Eyes are falling/ Lips are falling/ Hair is falling to the ground/ Slowly softly/ Falling falling/ Down in silence to the ground/ All the world is falling, falling/ All the blue/ From me and you/ Teardrops falling to the ground/ Teardrops/ I'm talking 'bout your teardrops // For instance/ Oh, my momma/ She's been falling/ falling down for quite some time/ And oh my poppa/ He's been falling/ Falling down for quite some time..." I don't know how I'd have survived up to now without Antony.

Later that day. After singing the song all day long in my head. And not getting the lyrics quite right. I took a walk with the ipod. Down to the football stadium that's like a 10 minute walk away. Site of adolescent angst. And wandering from home. Had to ask a scary looking group of three for a light. Because mine, of course, ran out of juice right there that very moment that I had left the foyer to smoke and think and walk and be alone. Settling into Suzanne. Looking at houses that were the backdrop for so much alienation. And then the football stadium. Walking all the way around it. With Antony on repeat. "Is this the rapture?... Oh my father/ Who art in heaven... " If it is. The rapture I mean. It might just be what it is. And I might just need to breathe in deeply and watch and write falling things down. You know, like stars that have fallen to earth. Needing consideration. Because you can say that in English. Consideration. It's the sideration I was looking to be able to say in English. With the "with" of the "con-." The tenderness of consideration and the savagery of the stars nestled in the word. "Is this the rapture?..."