Day after day, day after still day,
The summer has begun to pass away…
-from Summer’s Elegy, by Howard Nemerov
I can’t be sure, but I think we’ve come to the part of the summer where we’re tilting a little too heavily toward the fall. You can almost see September if you squint. So I won’t, though I do feel like I’ve been put on notice:
Attention! Laurie! Have as much fun as you can in the next three weeks! Get to the movies! Go camping! Sleep in! Make bonfires!
It’s like my mother giving me the ten-minute warning before it’s time to get out of the pool.
For me, this is a serious warning because fall hits hard around these parts with lots of classes happening here and a schedule that begs me to get some sleep and take care of myself. There are big personal changes afoot too; both my girls will be going to school in Colorado this year, one in Boulder, the other in Leadville, which means the empty nest has landed – a little earlier than expected.
After I return from taking them to Colorado, I’ll enter that new phase, which is sort of an old phase – the phase I had before I met their dad, before one became two, became three, became four. I’m going back to one now. It’s daunting, it’s a little scary, but I think I can do it.
I have a memory of this moment before I married their dad, 100 years ago. I was living on the third floor of this building, in a tiny studio apartment in Oakland. It was essentially one small space that combined a bedroom, a kitchen and a bathroom. You couldn’t have much of a party up there, though I do remember 6 women crowding around my dining room table one night wearing tiaras and holding champagne glasses, so clearly there was room for the important things. The selling feature of the place was one big bay window that opened out onto this huge walnut tree in the back. You could practically touch the branches. That was all I needed; some breeze, some light and this tree.
One early evening, I was on my way out the door. I’d left the window open and the music on, which I often did, for my cat Dicky. Halfway down the stairs, I realized I’d forgotten something, so I turned around, went back up, unlocked my door, and as I opened it, I was met by the most shimmery, golden, fluttering light – like Aspen leaves in the wind. And music – the most beautiful music. My apartment was having a party and it didn’t even need me to be there. I remember thinking, “I made this.”
I cherish that memory. It’s almost thirty-years-old, but it reminds me that I can make it again. I can make a world of light and sound and magic even if it’s just me.
If you’d like to join me in filling the house with sound and light – a magic that is medicine and that will fill you as it fills me – consider signing up for a Wild Writing class this fall. And if you live far away, check out the live online options.
Till then, squeeze that summer dry!
Gorgeous. Just like you.
Very nice, Laurie. Thirty years or thirty seconds. Memory matters not. This we know.
Laurie,
In regard to your most recent blog:
Think of being back to a “party” of one as a wonderful opportunity to eat what you want, what and when you want to do it eat it, doing what you want when and how you want to do it without considering anyone else’s schedule. Celebrate the sounds of alone and make it sing for you! I’m betting that when you get used to it, you’ll love it.
You are so more than capable of light and magic. Bring it.!
Hi ‘Cuz
There is no question that you can do it. It’s HOW do you wanna do it?
Don’t think of the loss, think of what wonderful stuff you will create.
Much love as always,
N
Beautiful! And I suspect you’ll find much richness in your impending empty nesting.
What greeted you when you returned to your apartment…..so wonderfully nostalgic. Loved it. I had a bad day this week. My baby is leaving to go to uni in London. Her sister has just graduated from uni in England and has a job, also in London. I do have a husbad but he is absent. I felt scared. I am scared. This is Part 3 and I don’t know if I can cope. I am searchind for my salvation in writing and I am depending on your encouragement! can I be a strong as you?
There’s something very alluring about that party in that old apartment. What you create does keep on living with/without your presence. You have THAT kind of effect on people/places. You are one strong mama and I know that this new/old/new phase is going to bring you so much light and music! Can’t wait to see it unfold! xox
Hi Laurie,
I am not sure if you had several nights with women wearing tiaras and champagne glasses but I do believe I was there for one of those times.
I was living with my boyfriend John at the time and I was completely mesmerized by you, your apt., the lights and the freedom, beauty & power of a woman living alone.
I will never forget the magic of that night. And trust me on this one, you will be creating more magic as you continue along on your journey.
xoxo, Pam
So, so beautiful. And so, so real.