I woke to flat gray skies.
It feels right. All these cool cloudless days have felt like vestiges of California .
Today will be an inside day, one of those days that not everything has to be a
done, a day to mull. If I had running shoes and shorts, it would be a day to run.
I have three pairs of pants here: work pants, two sizes too
large; new boot cut Calvin Klein jeans; aqua-teal skinny corduroys, that are a
shade bluer than my turquoise piped cowboy boots, also here. I also have a hunter
green woolen skirt and a pair of black tights. Some girls may put black tights
into the pants category. I am not one of those girls. Three T-shirts,
two tank tops, a black turtle neck, two long-sleeved cashmere sweaters, and a
cashmere T-shirt, a large quantity of both socks and underwear made their way
into my case as well. Pajama bottoms and slippers are welcome luxuries. There was a crushing assortment of cosmetics, tooth care products, hair clips, notebooks and pens in my bag which I decided to keep; I managed to bring a small silver pot of trinkets,
strings of unworn beads, a pin from my mother.
My glasses, laptop, camera, old phone, new phone, and
requisite chargers are all stowed away.
There are a few other odds and a lot of loose ends.
Around all of this is the not saying, not mentioning the big
obvious elephant sitting behind their computer keyboarding all of this: I have
my life and the breath in my lungs and the view from my eyes and the thoughts
in my mind that belong to me.
I put down my pouch of tobacco yesterday. It makes me happy
because I smell good and my skin thanks me. I want to be beautiful as I age, not look like a turtle, not smell soggy.
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