I think I really am afraid of pretty little houses with white porches....
a conversation with a new friend brought up the strangest memory, and with it a tsunami of nostalgic longing for ....i don't know what...something....
we were talking about tattoos, and i mentioned my next one is a crow, and she aasked if it meant anything. I have always associated crows with a feeling of home, the sound of those birds cawing always makes me feel...i dunno...safe...or right somehow... and that having a crow on my body meant always having a piece of home with me wherever I am. any way, this conversation triggered this memory from when I was really little, before i started school even I think. Mum, big bro and i were all driving out to grandmas' where us kids spent the summer to give mum a break while school was out. For some reason, i'm sure that we went the south way through the Crow's Nest Pass highway. We stopped for late lunch at some drive-through place. I remember sitting on a picnic bench and watching ravens fighting accross the road. I remember my brother feeding fries to a gopher. and i remember also these two skinny crows that were "dancing" in the gravelly part between where the asphalt ends and the grass begins. I fed them a fist full of my fries, and they each squawked and grabbed a beak full and then flew up into the trees, and then my mum got mad at me for wasting food. The strangest part is, I remember thinking like a mantra for hours in the car afterwards "home is where the crows are..."
It's strange how things surface in one's brain.the rusty chain holding that memory broke for some reason this week and let it float into consciousness. Looking back on this blog, I realize it's been a crazy summer! up and down, high and low like some kinda inhumane yo-yo. I had the worst week ever (so far...knock on wood! KNOCK IT!!) and actually had a panic attack ( i think) at work. Stress lately, combined with diet changes (ie- going veggie and becoming anemic because i more or less replaced meat calories with sugar calories...) and other life changes has really caught up to me. I know the changes that I need to make- leave work at work, spend more time in the studio, do things for myself. but all these things are like a dinner spread on the table in another room, and i'm not allowed in there yet. It's strange, and I think I'm rambling on from lack of sleep, so maybe I'll just stop now.
we were talking about tattoos, and i mentioned my next one is a crow, and she aasked if it meant anything. I have always associated crows with a feeling of home, the sound of those birds cawing always makes me feel...i dunno...safe...or right somehow... and that having a crow on my body meant always having a piece of home with me wherever I am. any way, this conversation triggered this memory from when I was really little, before i started school even I think. Mum, big bro and i were all driving out to grandmas' where us kids spent the summer to give mum a break while school was out. For some reason, i'm sure that we went the south way through the Crow's Nest Pass highway. We stopped for late lunch at some drive-through place. I remember sitting on a picnic bench and watching ravens fighting accross the road. I remember my brother feeding fries to a gopher. and i remember also these two skinny crows that were "dancing" in the gravelly part between where the asphalt ends and the grass begins. I fed them a fist full of my fries, and they each squawked and grabbed a beak full and then flew up into the trees, and then my mum got mad at me for wasting food. The strangest part is, I remember thinking like a mantra for hours in the car afterwards "home is where the crows are..."
It's strange how things surface in one's brain.the rusty chain holding that memory broke for some reason this week and let it float into consciousness. Looking back on this blog, I realize it's been a crazy summer! up and down, high and low like some kinda inhumane yo-yo. I had the worst week ever (so far...knock on wood! KNOCK IT!!) and actually had a panic attack ( i think) at work. Stress lately, combined with diet changes (ie- going veggie and becoming anemic because i more or less replaced meat calories with sugar calories...) and other life changes has really caught up to me. I know the changes that I need to make- leave work at work, spend more time in the studio, do things for myself. but all these things are like a dinner spread on the table in another room, and i'm not allowed in there yet. It's strange, and I think I'm rambling on from lack of sleep, so maybe I'll just stop now.
posted by mercurysmile at 10:05 PM
3 Comments:
It's not even that it's been a crazy summer for you... it's been an ultra-crazy year. Think of where you were this time last year and all the experiences and changes you've had. Wow! I know.
I love the story about the crows. You know, your crows-is-where-your-home-is thing is a lot why I have a dead tree on my back. It's where I felt like home; in the desert, on a roadtrip with Aaron. Before meeting Marcus, it was the moment I felt the most like me, who I really am. That most at home with myself. Comfort.
By the way, call my mom and put some time aside to hang with her one day. She misses you, owes you money and will cheer you up abit. If you mention the vegetarian thing, she'll worry on end about your iron levels and uterine tumors. But it's all good.
Love you.
I remember feeding fries to gophers a couple times. Once was near a dive of a fast food place with blue trim on white, I think Golden, and it was that time we had to stop and stay the night because the rain was so heavy...
I also remember chicken in pineapple patterend paper boxes from the early 80s.
I remember Jared staring a crow in the face, and almost touching it.
I remember the sound of tires on wet ashphalt in the dark, and playing games and pretending the cars on the road were red-eyed monsters.
...playing stuffed animal Law and Order... with plastic strawberry cases...
I remember lots of things. What I remember most is that home is something you carry with you in your gut. It's grandma's beef stew. It's the light off thunderheads. It's geese and your dog barking in the early spring as snow falls and coats the world in white. I've never been able to find anything to etch on my body that says that, so I don't. Next stop, little sister.
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