It is snowing. Let it Snow.
Terri and I are in the kitchen talking about someone we love very much. Her name is Maria. We are talking about her love life. Then we realize we have talked past sunrise. It is never too late to sing so we decide on How do we solve a problem like Maria? How do you catch a moonbeam in your hand?
I attempt a mash up of I’ll fly away and Down to the River to Pray
The Alanator and I have lunch. Al is a client/friend that I met when I first started my business. He is now in his 80’s and still the “master of the deal”. So we talk business and then get down to the grittier subject of life. He has become the care taker of his wife. Her health is challenging her quality of life. We talk about Marshall and where I am in the process of grief. Al has light blue eyes and I think of Marshall’s deep blue eyes and I think of blue eyes crying in the rain. Because when I am with Al we drive in his BMW with the top down singing Willie and Waylon songs at the top of our lungs. We both sound awful. It is so much fun.
So this morning I sing “Mamas don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys” except I replace boys with girls because I feel like maybe I am really a cowgirl deep in my heart of Texas.
Terri is in Jersey. Her mother is in a nursing home and when Terri goes home she goes to see her Mama. Her mama told her she is ready to die. Not afraid. Ready to be with Jesus. Why don’t you just go then Mama? Because baby, this body is just so damn strong and keeps hanging on.
Hallelujah. Leonard Cohen. Betsy and I sing at the lake and Terri sings on the river.
You’ve got a friend.
I’ll be missing you (Puff Daddy’s version) Yep. One of those days.
In the kitchen with Terri. I go through the book Saige made me for Christmas and find a song that just feels right. “Bring it on Home” Sam Cook Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
What I want to do, is not what I do. I go to work. But before I go, I sing “The Lazy Song” by Bruno Mars.
To date or not to date. That is the question. I am being asked so I ask myself. What do I want? I want to not cry. No woman no cry. Cause everything’s gonna be alright. Yeah. Everything’s gonna be alright.
My day started with this text from one of my favorite peeps, my sweet sister in law Kiran:
Good morning Michelle, my dad is in the hospital this weekend preparing for heart surgery on Monday. I spent the night with him last night and this morning we sat by the window and I told him about your singing. At 7:34 we sang with you. Our song was this little light of mine I’m gonna let it shine. Thank you for bringing us into this light. Love you
Prayers for her Dad and more chanting. Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu.
*His surgery went well and he is doing great. 2/14/18.
It’s Sunday. This time I go to Betsy and we walk to the big house to sing on the porch. I am sad because this dating thing is not going so well for me. In my heart is the Rolling Stones “You can’t always get what you want” but when I arrive at Betsy’s she tells me we are going to sing The Lonely Goatherd. Bruno rolls in horse shit. I tell her what I am feeling and she says well sometimes life is shit. Then Bruno runs up to me so happy to be covered in it.
Here is my takeaway. If you need a good laugh go yodel on a porch with your best friend and if you need perspective when you find yourself in shit just imagine you are Bruno and embrace it.
Worked all weekend trying to beat my deadline of Jan. 31st. At the end of the day on Sunday I get a call from Marshall’s business partner. Sometimes the right person calls at the right time. We catch up and then he asks me if I am taking requests for songs. Of course I tell him yes.
He suggests “Ripples” by Jerome Garcia.
I print the lyrics before I go home and fold up the paper in my purse. Terri has a plate of food waiting for me when I walk in the door. It’s only 7:30 but I go upstairs and do a little yoga and then fall into bed.
Bruno joins me around 3 am and throws up. My life feels very messy and I miss the comfort of Marshall. I can see him holding out his arms to me and I just want to crawl inside. I clean up from Bruno’s purge and fall back asleep.
I wake a few hours later and start the coffee routine. I use my phone to set the timer and see a text that came in the middle of the night that confirms what I already knew. It is not time for me to be with anyone else.
The days are stretching into the lightness now. The sun is coming a minute earlier in the morning and a minute later in the evening. So close to the 31st and still so much work to do. I need a song to motivate me. To help me get my game on, be an all star, go play.
My grandfather is 93. The last time we visited his Northern Alabama hometown he drove us to a river and told me the story of being dunked and baptized. His stories were always matter of fact and just slivers into his past. Sometimes he would think something was funny and laugh. When my Dad and I would go visit him together we always ended up at a cemetery, reviewing the past. Now when I visit with him it is because my Dad brings him here. He is happily fading into the past. “Your grandmother was such a good woman” he says. She was, I agree. We miss her together. I think of her organ in the living room. She had a very high voice and would sing old hymnals and sometimes Doris Day songs. This morning I find a good old church song. In the sweet by and by.