tarkis's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Patch Work life I passed a house yesterday morning on the drive to pick up my son... I smiled and my mind immediately thought.. it is a patch work house.. and I thought of the people that lived there and hoped that in their projects of change and renewal they had laughed often... that as they point to different times in the house they would have memories so priceless... one has to only experience them to understand their value. and my mind went to my grandmother who when I was young told me it was important to have a patch work quilt.. that a Patch work quilt would be a friend that would never leave. and yesterday I remembered mine.. long gone as my sewing was not as good as could be and in my growing up.. before I realized its value.. I threw it away. I felt sad thinking of it.. but smiled as I remembered the squares. the blue dress I thought looked so nice on me.. my prom dress.. and those wild flowered slacks fropm my hippie years.. I thought of my life then in terms of clothes.. squares... that brought me to Michael... Strange how that happened. Michael.. I lived with him for 12 years.. Michael.. my dearest friend for some and my dearest enemy for others. Was I at that place I could open the door.. I thought about that on the drive.. Michael... and I wondered how he was.. if he was still alive...a very real possibility he was not. and in my minds eye.. squares of color floated by.. his purple shirt.. that I would not allow him to wear after seeing it in a dream.. a dream of an accident which he ended up having and walked away from. In my dream he did not walk away. and a square from his new jacket.. again I would not let him wear.. I saw the shooting when he walked out of the club.. I saw him lying there.. I saw the blood... So when it happened.. he was not wearing the jacket. I saw the square from our first sofa bought together.. I remembered how cool the material felt on warm summer days... and how we laughed sitting with friends or just the two of us... how we could laugh. and I remember the orange from the paint job... I designed a very intricate pattern on the walls of browns and oranges and tans and olive greens... desert colors and he so patiently and how we laughed when the jelly fish got me good... even in my pain..we laughed.. I remember the trip to the desert... that square of corduroy from my jeans... and sleeping with my boots on so snakes would not crawl in them.. and how we laughed as we walked with the mayor of some little city in Oklahoma that was having a festival... me with my six gun hanging on my hip. Twelve years of memories came flooding back... and then the others.. not so happy.. full of anger and bitterness.. and drugs and alcohol.... and loss. and loss. I thought of the loss... the children... me... Michael... us. I said a prayer for Michael then ... sending positive energy to the universe.. and I prayed that at that moment.. wherever he was.. a smile would cross his face and he would remember a time when we laughed. I was glad I could think of Michael without anger or fear. That those years were no longer forgotten. 7:11 a.m. - 2005-12-19 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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