Entering another season of revolution
Well, it’s happening. I’m coming out of my hibernation, at last.
Thursday was Halloween and no one who has a kid may opt to stay home. So in the morning, I dressed my fire breathing dragon for school and let him heat my tea water with his fire breath:
Then in the early evening, Tin changed into an astronaut and we ventured over to our old stomping grounds in Faubourg St. John to partake of the blocked off streets and contained trick or treat spirit.
And then Friday, it was time to behave like an adult. A friend and I went to another friend’s reading in the Bywater, which ended up being a mix of musician/writers reading from their books and playing music, while my friend read her poetry from her phone accompanied by Amzie Adams playing his melodic dulcimer. Her erotic poem ended abruptly (coitus interruptus) but up until then we were enjoying the hell out of her sweet and tipsy presentation – complete with vintage white patent leather platform boots.
Then it was off to pass the night with DJ Soul Sister, who was holding court at One Eyed Jacks for her Prince Dance Revolution (No. 2) – and that is where I cut loose the ties that have bound me for months now – three hours of nonstop dancing to my heartthrob as he appeared larger than life on the big screen.
I went to sleep that night way past bedtime, but as a friend reminded me, this new routine of bedtime at 9PM is self-imposed and new, so just like any other habit, it can be broken at will or whim and should be.
This morning after thoroughly cleaning the house from corner to corner, I then went and met friends for a picnic in Audubon Park – it was a rare fall day in New Orleans – the sun warming the chill in the air. We sat on blankets – me with my three French friends – one had made a quiche, the other a quinoa salad, and one had brought a box of sweet treats from her bakery, and I brought fresh fruit – satsumas, pears, apples – and while the kids played, we chatted and laughed and savored all of it – the calm, the delicacies, the sun.
Beside us was the swing set that my dear friend had erected when her two year old daughter died of a brain tumor. As I was nearing the end of this nearly perfect weekend, I looked at the children swinging and thought how all of this life is one part magic, one part motion and a large leap of faith that everything is going to be okay in the end.
And if it’s not okay, it’s not the end.
