Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue
Yesterday was the last night of Passover and I’m still eating matzo. This morning, I made my Earl Grey Lavender tea, broke a piece of egg matzo, and put some blackberry jam my friend Kim gave me for Easter. Yes, it’s all a mash up. I had something old – the bread of our affliction, I had something new – Kim’s blackberry jam, I ate it sitting by a pillow that was not necessarily borrowed – Jean gave it to me, and I’m blue.
Not blue in the way you might imagine. I’m blue because I’m watching Ozark by myself and this is a series that needs someone next to you so you can scream each time something really fucked up happens (spoiler alert: it happens a lot). I’m blue because I’m almost out of that jam Kim brought me. I’m blue because I keep saying I’m going to have my tea in my breakfast cup that I save for special occasions and I keep not getting it out of the cupboard even though I would definitely call this a special occasion. I’m blue because I truly missed our Passover seder this year and it was like pulling teeth to try to improvise with Tin on a night when I was just not feeling it and then I watched this Passover video and I cried and laughed the whole way through it.
I’m blue because I’m burying old pieces of myself. Facebook prompted me to have a fundraiser for my birthday and I did it. I arbitrarily picked $5000 for the Hall and before a week was out, I had raised it. So just as arbitrarily I ended it two weeks early. $5K would pay for months of no revenue. I told my friends who asked me to keep it going that I don’t need the next two weeks because I’ve finally learned all I need is what I need.
Oh, I have dreamed of money in the bank. Money saved. Money rolling in on a consistent basis. And all those dreams have been dashed for some nine years. Now, I dream of not wanting those things. I dream of peace of mind. I dream of this crazy thing that the pandemic has handed me on a silver platter – time. I dream of being loved and I am. I dream of helping others and in a small way I can.
Tomorrow morning, I will get down the breakfast cup. The cup and saucer I spotted in an antique store in San Francisco so many years ago and fell in love with and have rarely used because I don’t want it to break. Tomorrow I will bask in the fragility of my special cup and in the illusion that money in the bank brings security, happiness and certainty.
