 |
| My builder grade fireplace. Nice enough. Boring though. |
It always surprises me that heartache feels so much like....heartache.
But as one friend goes, another arrives. Even before my friend P left this morning, my daughter C was here. In fact both daughters are here now.
I went to yoga for the first time in 2 or 3 weeks. I went to the supermarket for groceries. Look, I'm doing what the living do. Except things like remembering the sentence I just read or wrote.
Today, with C here, I decided I needed projects. Let's put leather conditioner on the cat-scratched sofa. Let's paint the hearth orange. Let's take all the beach glass I've gathered over the last two years and tile the fireplace with it. This is the sort of project that could go horribly wrong if left to my own devices, but C is meticulous. First there were a couple hours of research, then beach glass washing and sorting.
Then portioning out the colors so they'll be somewhat evenly distributed.
And now we've begun a sort of practice layout so we won't be just winging it when we put the morsels of glass into the thinset.
Remember the Rolling Stones song "Paint It Black"?
I see my red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they're all painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back
With flowers and my love both never to come back
I'm taking the opposite approach. If I painted anything black it would be the end of me.
6 comments:
Projects are good, especially with your daughter. You can go on automatic if you need to. I hope you'll show us the fireplace when it's done.
What a beautiful idea!
Such a perfect task for now.
Yes. Color. No black.
Do you know this poem? It seems apt.
Funeral Blues
by WH Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone.
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crépe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song,
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong
The stars are not wanted now, put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
I want/need a daughter like that! off topic: why is there so much glass on your beach??
love
Wow! That's going to be incredible! And this post made me cry.
Glad you have friends and your daughter there with you. Projects are good for occupying the mind. The fireplace will look beautiful with the sea glass tile.
x0 N2
Post a Comment