Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Blooms in winter

A word before sleeping, posting from my iPad from the first time. It's cold tonight and I want to keep my feet tucked under the covers and my words brief. Sometimes speaking ruins the mind. 

Having a bit of a time getting this bunch of flowers to bloom out, but they are lovely as is. I don't even think I retouched the photo, it's just fuzzy from the iPad camera. It's difficult to say if the house is getting more organized, but some things are happening. After I got home from errands this evening, I went looking for some books I promised to send to a friend. I couldn't find one of them, but instead ran across a little paperback of Like Water for Chocolate, and seeing it takes twelve chapters for the twelve months I thought I'd start it and at least do the first one for January.

I've not read any fiction in decades. I used to read loads of it, right up thru my twenties, but I somehow lost the desire for things that just weren't true at 30. It's alright, we all go thru phases. If you've read the book, you'll know it's short, and I finished it in about two hours. If you remember the story, you'll know it's dead on the mark for the things I'm working thru these days.

I'll tell you my little story that's like the book. There's a photograph of me where I'm about two, still in a diaper and it's almost bedtime. Dad has come home and he's eating ice cream out of a glass on the couch and I'm doing my best bird imitation trying to get him to feed me the ice cream instead. It was a good ploy and it worked fairly well. Mother is the one taking the picture. 

I've always remembered that incident, even tho the photograph did not reappear for about 15 years. I remember it from the inside looking out of my eyes, thinking my thoughts, working my little ice cream plan. I remember being irritated that Mother was interrupting my plan by calling attention to it, I was trying to keep it on the down low, just let that ice cream cruise right over into my mouth. I remember her going to get the camera and returning with it, giggling about how cute I was to Dad. I remember thinking, "I'm going to be burdened with her until she dies."

I wasn't saved then.

Having had that thought always bothered me. It was a very strange thought to have, I was always afraid that it was true. And it was. So now you can see how I found that little book of fiction very interesting. If you haven't read it, just read the first five pages standing in the book store. 

Now I'm going to sleep and let the whole book percolate in my dreams. Should be interesting.

1 comment:

Sweetbriar said...

Well, not a single dream about it, slept like a rock for the most part. Looking back in the morning light, I'd say it's a well done story about an abusive family system, but I think it falls down in the end. Resolving the story is always the hardest part and what to do with a borderline heroine who can choose substance or her dearest fantasy?

Read the book, it's good, I recommend it.

I'm a C.S. Lewis fan. I enjoy stories, but I've set my heart on having the story that comes true, the one I'll see with my own eyes in bright daylight. Fantasy just isn't enough, I've got to have the real thing at all hours of the day and night.