The Broken Curse

My mate has flown to Missouri for a job interview, which if he is offered a job could land us in Missouri or Texas. Once upon a time I would have likely had strong feelings about this and aversions and concerns. At this point, I feel simply like we are all rising up from a long time underground.

I have learned that heaven and hell exist everywhere, in all communities, side by side. So no matter where you go, you might end up in either. Heaven might disappoint. Hell might have some pleasant surprises.

It is clear that I remain very much in only the present moment trying to get well.
Sometime I feel he will have to be sent on ahead to the Wild West and I will catch up as soon as I can.
(If this were the Oregon Trail I would have to be left to die on the side of the road or perhaps to be adopted by Yeti’s or a kind American Indian family.)

I cant figure if the doctors are going to have to do sudden surgery on my head or if I will drop dead from other causes, or if suddenly there will be a diagnosis or at least a treatment or a pill and suddenly I will find I have my life back, and this will all be behind me like a long bad dream.

I simply have no way of knowing. But I have survived so much thus far, I tend to think I will survive more. Even if this is just the prednisone talking.

So sometimes I want to pack a simple suitcase and meet him at the door and just say Lets Go. Partly thinking I can both take me with us, and leave me behind. Take me and leave my illness. Like somehow I and my illness can be parted. (Without me dying!)

But one reason I know the curse is broken is that for years it was as if we fell into a portion of the underground and we were all alone. It wasn’t just that we moved to suburban New Jersey, though the peculiarities of that culture must not be dismissed entirely. But it was more like we fell into a wormhole where everything was strange and upside down and different and we were ghosts and gravity behaved strangely and the rules we knew did not apply and the language we had did not communicate and we developed a bad case of face blindness and could not recognize people and they could not see us and each time we did make contact those people would quickly move away to different states, or they would die.
And we would never see the same people twice.

But this past week, I found three little children in my garden. Along with the three little kittens. The weeping cherry tree had burst into bloom, and little Avery and her brother Will and their tiny toddler imp of a sister Riley, all appeared with their father Bill, (the vet who is married to Christine, and who lives on the corner not far away, and moved in a year or two after us) and they came up close and I gave them eight dollars for a heart health fundraiser, and they stayed a long long time and were utterly charming and darling and flesh and blood real and funny and silly and magical as people can actually be.

They were like my beautiful niece and nephew.

So I know the curse is broken.
And there are many other things. Like Olympia being in my life and suddenly I have two good doctors and my mate is getting calls for jobs and the dog has begun to look like he has just integrated the last dog, who died as soon as we got here, and the realtor who was our good friend and sunshiney presence has reappeared, and the library has been redone with a café and wireless internet, and Tavolo serves the wonderful food, and the women at the two post offices are great, as are the librarians and the woman at the copy shop, and Sea Bright began a trap/neuter/return program for their feral cats, and our beloved vet opened his own practice in his house in our neighborhood, and Staple’s opened a great self serve copy shop, and Trader Joe’s (Hooray!)has arrived.

Now that I drive a taller car no one bullies me.

The wild blue yonder rose has survived its first winter.

The bulbs have multiplied themselves.
And I feel there are others in my life who are experiencing this same sensation of change, and rising up from the underworld, in their own daily lives.


(4-7-11)