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Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Spinal Attachments


I moved here with a giant mattress and no self-identity. I ran into a ghost-Queen from my past who owned an intricately beautiful four-post bed. The same bed I had chased her tiny children around in California, was now sitting in her garage looking for a new life. So we called upon her two young college boys and watched as they sweated and grunted the heavy swirling pieces to the third floor of my new life/apartment. 

Once they left, I wiped down all the pieces and assembled it myself. I'd never owned such a grand piece of furniture before. I felt quite accomplished sitting there in my single-dwelling space.


And now the bed has become me. It is the 34th vertebrate dripping down my spine. It is a womb where I come to float, breathe, and fix my heart (after my three year-old shreds it). It is the place I sit and wait for my Someone to come hold me in. It is where I lay flat on my back, stretch out my tight swollen fingers, and try to stare into their future. It is where I come to ask God my many restless questions. It is the space I gravitate to when I doodle a drawing or thumb through a book. It is a place where my Someone pulls me in tight, kisses my forehead, and reassures me that shreaded-up Mom-hearts always heal with time. It is a place of equanimity and sometimes laughter. It is a secret sanctuary protecting against bad guys.

It is a calming glow-tent of all my love and happiness. 



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