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I woke this morning at 3:45 – the joy of now trying to scramble the details together. Last night, after I was already in bed I received an offer on the house, less than 24 hours before the Open House today. I was able to read the Sunday New York Times that for the first time arrived early enough to do so since Tin came.

Before dawn I had a conversation with the bayou and said that it had provided me a great deal of solace amidst an avalanche of pain for the past seven years. My next view will not be so strong a statement and perhaps that is as it should be. There were many times over the past seven years, that I wanted to put stones in my pocket and walk right into that water and find rest, peace, relief.

The psychic powers of water are evident in any of us who live here in New Orleans surrounded by it. The pull of the bayou as a panacea for life’s milestones never failed to charm me. When my Yoruba priestesses took my Yemaya statue and submerged her in ocean water, I was told that putting this Ocean Goddess under water would allow me to come up for air. And perhaps they were right because I have been breathing easier instead of wishing it so.

A few hours later I saw a pelican huddled in itself and walked outside as it began to rain to see three large white Pelicans take flight and soar over this body of water that has been my view. We become what we behold.

I had grand visions when I moved into the LaLa. Instead of the two large flowers pots, I had thought of gas fires that would sit in cauldrons and burn greatly. How festive I would say to myself when I thought of my idea. How grandiose and delusional I think now in my humble state.

The lot that I will build my house on is a humble lot, narrow and long, with a broad view across an expanse of lawn to the house across the street that reeks of New Orleans architecture. Standing in the midst of that grass, I watched the young African American children headed to and from school. I thought of Tin growing up and playing soccer on that grass. Of he and his friends running and jumping contained within a (be)held scope of wonder.

My life has changed greatly in seven years. As a friend said to me last night, you have led so many different versions of yourself in the past years. And now this one is another.

Earlier yesterday, I had driven to the post office to drop the Netflix envelope in and had to spit. I don’t know how to spit. So instead of risking out the window, I opened the car door, and just as I was attempting to spit a gust came and blew the spit inside the car. I then hurriedly sought a tissue or napkin to clean up my mess. Yes, indeed, some things change, while others stay remarkably the same.

This entry was posted on Sunday, January 6th, 2013 at 8:38 am and is filed under Main. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.