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This is the most beautiful morning ever made. It's just after 6am in Iowa, the sun has more-or-less risen, the sky is still morning-grey and torn with clouds the way it so often is in Vancouver. The air is warm and wet, precisely like a wrung-out sponge in a hot bath. I can almost imagine it steaming slightly, but of course there's nowhere for it to steam *to*. Because there's a strong wind, it's shirt-and-shorts weather outside rather than truly-naked weather, a good thing given that this is not the sort of family that would appreciate anyone stripping down to nothing. I haven't stuck a toe in the lake yet, so I don't know whether the water is slightly warm, like it was when I got here, or whether it's a little bit cooler like it has been for the last couple of days.
It's quiet. My cousin Justin -- the older one, who I used to adore like a God -- was sleeping on the couch until a second ago, one of the last remaining bodies strewn around the living areas now that most people have gone home. Last night I came through on my way to bed and he'd fallen asleep in front of the TV, so I turned it off. This morning I woke up and he was asleep in front of the TV. So I turned it off. So much for fourteen-year-old adoration. Now the feeling is the equally simple, and no less wonderful, love. I've worked a lot of my life to create a place where I can sit in the middle of a group of people and love the ones around me. I have created that at home, and it's why I came back from Kelowna, because that's important to me. And-- here it is. Another place I can go, and love people, and it's that simple.
Justin just woke up, went to the bathroom, came back, and turned on the TV.
(Please imagine, if you will, that I am sitting writing in a big recliner chair, laptop on my lap, and grey light is filtering through the sliding door next to me, and the little voice of the TV is speaking in the background. On the couch beside me there is a massive sunburnt person, half-asleep and yawning, and in the rest of the house people are starting to get up)
The lake we're on is small, curved like a kidney bean (who knows what that means anymore? How many of you cook, or ID parts of your chili?), and when it's calm it doesn't smell like anything. When the wind whips it like this, through, it smells like wet and vegetation and it's almost as good as the ocean to sit next to. Maybe it's better, because it's not as cold, although of course boating on a lake will never be as lovely as trusting yourself to the salt and long waves of the ocean. This place isn't big enough to have waves like that.
Last night some of us were up around the fire. A family member by marriage mentioned that they never could keep up with the sharp sarcasm of this side of my family. That's another one of those comments that floated me on the air, a reminder that this part of me *comes from* somewhere. Almost everyone here has a deadpan that can throw me. Almost no one at home does. And, you know, we're all quick on the draw, smart with it, this is a use of the language with which we have real skill. It's a use of the language that we enjoy, too. I realise that there are people who are wounded by this cutting witty banter, but none of them are found here. Here, there are only other people with which to play. It's especially wonderful coming from the cousins, who as I've said before are huge side-of-beef farmboy types and just don't look as if they should be up to it.
People are waking up pretty fast right now, so I'll wander off. Be well.
It's quiet. My cousin Justin -- the older one, who I used to adore like a God -- was sleeping on the couch until a second ago, one of the last remaining bodies strewn around the living areas now that most people have gone home. Last night I came through on my way to bed and he'd fallen asleep in front of the TV, so I turned it off. This morning I woke up and he was asleep in front of the TV. So I turned it off. So much for fourteen-year-old adoration. Now the feeling is the equally simple, and no less wonderful, love. I've worked a lot of my life to create a place where I can sit in the middle of a group of people and love the ones around me. I have created that at home, and it's why I came back from Kelowna, because that's important to me. And-- here it is. Another place I can go, and love people, and it's that simple.
Justin just woke up, went to the bathroom, came back, and turned on the TV.
(Please imagine, if you will, that I am sitting writing in a big recliner chair, laptop on my lap, and grey light is filtering through the sliding door next to me, and the little voice of the TV is speaking in the background. On the couch beside me there is a massive sunburnt person, half-asleep and yawning, and in the rest of the house people are starting to get up)
The lake we're on is small, curved like a kidney bean (who knows what that means anymore? How many of you cook, or ID parts of your chili?), and when it's calm it doesn't smell like anything. When the wind whips it like this, through, it smells like wet and vegetation and it's almost as good as the ocean to sit next to. Maybe it's better, because it's not as cold, although of course boating on a lake will never be as lovely as trusting yourself to the salt and long waves of the ocean. This place isn't big enough to have waves like that.
Last night some of us were up around the fire. A family member by marriage mentioned that they never could keep up with the sharp sarcasm of this side of my family. That's another one of those comments that floated me on the air, a reminder that this part of me *comes from* somewhere. Almost everyone here has a deadpan that can throw me. Almost no one at home does. And, you know, we're all quick on the draw, smart with it, this is a use of the language with which we have real skill. It's a use of the language that we enjoy, too. I realise that there are people who are wounded by this cutting witty banter, but none of them are found here. Here, there are only other people with which to play. It's especially wonderful coming from the cousins, who as I've said before are huge side-of-beef farmboy types and just don't look as if they should be up to it.
People are waking up pretty fast right now, so I'll wander off. Be well.
