Winter Sunday Mornings

I work up on the right side of the bed today.

I’m staying in my upstairs bedroom since my dad is in a nursing home

Dad is doing better if he stays there long enough he can learn to walk, if he leaves too early he won’t know how to walk again. It’s ultimately his choice if he wants to walk again. Parkinson’s has taken control of his body, but he can overcome it with hard work. He can walk with a blind man’s cane if he works hard enough.

It’s quiet here. I’m sitting in my kitchen eating eggs, staring out the windows.

SUNDAY’S are hard or are they easy. Everything is quiet, the world has not woken up yet, I’m about to go sit in my living room.

I’ve lived in this house on and off for over thirty years

It’s hard to say goodbye to all the memories.

But maybe it’s time to say goodbye and cut the umbilical chord.

So many memories, so much of a life is memories. What is a memory? What actually is it?

I wore a bindi to a bar last night. They were singing karyoke. I didn’t sing. I forgot how to sing last night as I was driving home listening to Steavie Knicks. How do you spell her name? I went to a bhajan first and they were singing beautifully in Sanskrit but I don’t understand Sanskrit so could only stay for a little while. Sanskrit was the first language Ram and Sita spoke. Maybe Ram and Sita were Adam and Eve? I don’t know…what do I know, I’m just a girl. There’s a red cardinal trying to fly into my window right now.

I tried to get a picture of the bird but alas it got scared

The bird flying into my window sure scared the fuck out of me.

Some of my plants are dying, some of them I have had to have a funeral for. However, some are still standing strong. They will stay with me forever.

nina