who will love you, who will fight?

There’s probably not many other local places that make me feel as depressed as this: a plastic playground sitting fallow and tedious, unused except for a couple sweet toddlers in all pink, the play area sandwiched between a huge, huge new church building and a large and inhospitable baseball field (now clustered with boys and their parents, shiny huge trucks waiting in the gravel). I cannot think of a HQX locale I’d like less to be. This is why it is so great my daughter is entirely thrilled. In fact, she brought me here, wanting to show me this new place. She swings and turns herself upside down, her (newly-cut) hair swinging all blonde floss.

After a bit she comes around the “climbing wall” (just: plastic with little plastic lumps) where I’m propped, fucking around with my phone, and she sits down. “Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?” she asks. Sweet girl. I am struggling, trying not to identify with the sadness in my body and the dark thoughts in my mind, trying to experience Me instead. I put my hands to her head. “I”m sorry I’m not good at playing with you on playgrounds.” She replies, “That’s okay,” her freckles plain and lovely and her voice like clear water. “Maybe I’ll be better someday,” I say, truly wondering. Then I take this picture right then:

Phoenie At The Park

We had a lovely afternoon; I took the kids out, we hit the library, I stopped at two local shops and received gifts from the proprietresses, I bought my daughter a $4 book, I bought a coffee and got a brief date with Jasmine, I saw so many people I love and care about and we talked briefly, the sunshine hit my face and hair and later I got up to handsewing and pricked my fingers and I’m almost done with my current project and tomorrow is Friday and I get Ralph home for the weekend.

Life is okay.

At night, every single night, our kitty Josie gets up in the bed and sleeps as close to me as possible. In the daytime she’s standoffish to us all; except Nels, at whose handshe allows all manner of handling and stroking, and purrs intensely. There’s no accounting for animal behavior sometimes.

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