firgun
“You may be as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts. You need her, as she needs you.”
Dear Anias,
No one dreams in the way I do but me; this is the only place I have to myself. Utterly.
Strip the nonsense from the sentence and see what you've got left.
Not everything needs a purpose; I want to wander without a fixed point. I'll tip my chin toward the North Star if I get lost.
Blink-blink-blink.
The churchbells clattered for a quarter-hour this morning. I was too dizzy to stand up. The room spun and my arms were longer than my legs. My feet didn't fit on the floor. I stayed in the fetal pose with my nose burrowed in the white. You stuck your finger on the moth wing and now it cannot fly.
Amanda, Alyson, and Rebecca visited me in my dream. We went to the leisure center to swim. I am in a pink suit, Amanda in red, Alyson in purple, and Rebecca in yellow. The four of us walked in a line to the deep end.
I swam laps and the other three took to the diving pool. The arena was bustling and loud. Voices echoed off the walls and into the water. Even submerged, I could not hear silence.
We went for lunch after the swim and had to walk through a long narrow tunnel to get to the changing rooms. Alyson stayed close to me and rode shotgun when we returned to the car. I drove. The weather was cold and tight and we could see our breath in the parking lot. I cranked the heat. It didn't do anything.
We held hands on the way to the restaurant. Just in the parking lot. Eight steps and we were at the front of the cafe and each ordered eggs for brunch. Burnt coffee. Runny eggs. Crispy hashbrowns. It was perfect.
I did not want to leave the dreamland. The bells are still ringing, ringing so far away. I rolled from bed to use the toilet and saw it was nearly noon.
I feel weak in my body today, Anias. Off-center. Like someone ripped a page from a book in the middle, there's a gap between events. A sentence without a period, only commas. Run-ons.
I'm sitting here with you and my ears are buzzing from the bells. My skin is less oily today than it was yesterday. I had quinoa and eggs for dinner with purple hummus and roasted veggies. The loaf of bread I purchased is yellow on the inside and coated with seeds.
The four of us never went on excursions together. Hardly. We love each other, though I don't think we like each other all that much.
Do you need to like your family members? Should you entertain relationships with others when you do not align with their vision or values? Blood relatives included.
There is one trip we took as a quad. Alyson drove. She was pregnant with Hunter at the time. We went to Alouette lake and Amanda went swimming. Rebecca wore our mother's straw hat. She's the only one who gets away with taking her clothes; no one else would have been able to pull that off. Only the baby. Our mother's 'Bug.'
Amanda had wanted to go for a night swim. It was dusk, and the light dimmed as we entered the forest. One of my favorite views is the drive to Alouette Lake through Golden Ears Provincial Park. It's nothing special, just a long windy road through the fir trees. All grey and green and white mountain peaks. The route bends and winds and rolls up and down. When my dad drove fast as a kid, it felt like a roller coaster. Floating, way up high in the back seat of the Honda. I felt like I was flying.
Rebecca's playlist. With my sisters, we listen to music. Nothing is memorable, and no song sticks out, though I remember slapping my thighs and singing. Amanda and Alyson have the best voices. Very rich and warm.
When we got to the lake, it was empty. Sunday. Dusk. Midsummer. Mid Covid. The car was parked in the empty lot and we made our way down the gravel path to the waterside. Aly took her time and held Amanda's arm. Rebecca and I walked behind.
No one wore a swimsuit. We didn't bring towels.
Amanda stripped down, waded out into the darkest spot of the lake and dove under. Front crawl. Handstands. Butterfly. She was always the strongest swimmer. Amanda was the best at sports. Is the best at sports.
Aly set her feet in the water and waded back and forth. Her palms were on her belly. Humming.
Rebecca and I sat on the pebbled sand. It wasn't comfortable.
I have a few photos of this evening on my phone. I don't need them. I prefer to recall the sensation of events rather than images. I destroyed all my photo albums in my last move. I had blond hair in the pictures. I look thin and wane and my eyes are too dark for my complexion.
My eyes have not changed. Nor has my complexion. Somehow now, I appear more balanced. I think it's age.
Amanda wanted us to get in and no one would. It was cold. And becoming dark. She swam, splashed, and asked us to light a cigarette and bring it to her. We did. I held the stem to her pursed lips and Rebecca struck a match. Aly watched us and said, stay away from me with that; I'm pregnant.
Like we didn't know.
We went home and Amanda had to pull her clothes on over her wet limbs. I gave her my sweater, which was her sweater. A grey and white striped hoodie. It was cozy. It kept her warm.
The drive home under the stars was silent.
We should do this more; Rebecca broke the quiet.
We each nodded, knowing we wouldn't.
If I ask my sisters about this day, they'd each have their own memory of it. Their own private recording of what was worth filing away in the body's bundles of memories.
I remember being happy. I felt comfortable.
Is that freedom? Contentment?
No, I don't think it is.
Which is why I always chose to leave.
I want a different sort of love. I want a love that strives for something.
I want a love of pain. Of terror and heartache. I want a love that holds me at the throat and makes me suffer a little before the sweetness. I want a love that makes me question everything I am, and all that I know! I want a love that makes me dizzy and unable to rise up on my own.
I want a love that keeps me bedside with desire and lifts me as questions reveal themselves through whispers into my skin.
I want a love of holding and touching and kissing and fucking.
I want a love of withholding, space, and distance between forms yet so deeply and desirously intimate at the breaking point.
I want a love full of pauses.
I want a love that's so utterly maddening I cannot recall anything that came beforehand.
I want a love that wipes out the future and cancels the question of what is next.
I want a love that obliterates and dissolves. I want a love that gives me endless inquiry and desire!
I want a love that pulls me to and fro in an endless game of tug-of-war. I want to be at the crux of insanity.
I want a love that shows me death, so I remember what it is to be so fantastically alive.
Photo source.
