Spannoccia

I just got back from a month of travels.  there were heartbreaking and heart warming times.  I want to keep them all.  But I want to sleep for three days, and I know they will fade if I do.  So bear with me as I give disjointed highlights.

 

Went to san francisco to see a friend and his wife.  He is doing a major cancer fight.  He plays oboe so we went to an artists night at a nearby church so he could play.  there were artists and poetry readings and music.  all the poetry was about grief and death.  My notes say:

 

the aching and the healing happen at the same time.

Let go of the d$%%^ bootstraps you keep pulling on.

Our yes-es cost us more than we ever thought to spend.

There are times in life when we need to get lost

The crooked hand of pain.

When you die, your mind free at last, unbuckle the seat belt and climb out of the car

 

Ok thats what resonated enough for my scribble receipt note.  Throw the scrap of paper away, and come back here if you need to expand on any of this.

 

Next, I was in Portland for the funeral of a bear of a man, a huge soul and presence, a life friend.  I stayed with his wife for a week after, and we went out to breakfast every day at a favorite restaurant of theirs, and at night more restaurants.  i stayed in the house while she worked, and organized stuff for give away and sale, and cut k huge boxes if t-shirts into squares for t-shirt quilts.  Grief and laughter and tears and reminiscences.

 

My daughter and I left together from portland for a 12 day trip to Spannoccia in Italy.  I have the full set of pictures and travelogue.  what I need to write is about the man who kissed me in the moonlight.  It was just a kiss.

 

and, I need to write the last night, with my daughter, when we cried over our wine in florence, as she told me the story of her divorce.

 

and, when we got back to Portland, i spent the day with my youngest son, drinking beer in a bowling alley, and hearing his tales of first year of marriage to an alcoholic.

 

So much to process.

I am back in North Dakota–Sven picked me up last night, let me talk all the way home, made love to me and fell asleep, made love to me at 5 am and left to work.  I won’t see him again till dark or later.

So I reopened my old open diary, but could not restore.  but wow, do i need to type!