Where Am I?

12-26-23 Tuesday, 3am

Reheating sweet potatoes. My acupuncturist brew in a mug, a spoon erupts. My Christmas Log Cabin quilt wall hanging. The pink dress I made for Ma-Ma & Pa-Pa’s 50th anniversary party.

Baking, cooking, child-rearing-
     my first career.
/It's almost a full moon here.
I just stepped outside for a few seconds to view it.
While, the heat pumps forced air, warmth to support me, being out of bed at this hour.
The programmed thermostat temporarily bumped up from 5 degrees lower.
/I don't think much about my former reality.
But, it seems Christmas has dug into the well of memories.
/I think Angie got me flamingo socks that are here on the table.
A blast from my tropical childhood in Miami, Florida.
Parrot Jungle.
The flamingos performed a trained, choreographed number during       the school field trips during my elementary years.
Feeling the swirl of a need.
To write or create.
My G.
The psilocybin journey.
The layers of generational memories.
The metamorphoses I have experienced.
/What is sleep if these demanding needs take precedence?
I had not had my second herb elixir last evening,
so I'm having it now.
/The "Sweet Potato Bank" my grandparents made to store them for the winter
There are probably old videos
-I know there are still photographs-of me reaching into the dark clay and pine straw coolness of success when I was a single digit child.
To find and pull out a potato-the epitome of training.
My father recording the moments with pride.
/Belonging.
/Not that anyone's asking
It's more like my "G" said, "Get up!"
"Write."
Sleep can be had anytime. 
I do still have one day off.
Today.
/I tell myself Nancy was too stretched with grief to get a personalized gift.
She got me a throw.
Do NOT need another throw blanket.
But, I cannot imagine how she might be feeling this Christmas.
Her first as a mother of only two living children.
/Angie got me the spaghetti claw I asked for.
It's really all I could think of when they asked.
(It fits in my crock of utensils).
Eric saying he didn't see many photos of us as teens.
Weird!
/My fingernails disintegrating.
Sore nubs at fingertips.
Disorienting.
Pressured thoughts.
And, Sarah said to write.
/Telling the grandsons last evening after viewing Wonka about singing "Oklahoma" as a senior in high school.
Not getting the lead in "Hello Dolly" at age 10-5th grade.
/I enjoyed the movie-though the sound crackled and the bathrooms were dirty.
Told them about differing socio-economic stressors and parts of town. 
/Essentially, Where am I?
/Well, I've eaten some sweet potatoes.
Heaven Joy's been outside.
Her dish refilled.
The moon-gazed at.
The heat's still running.
3:54am.
/I do see Susan today.
In some ways I only exist when I get a health treatment,
Or, sit with a client.
I enjoyed feeding my family yesterday.
Sour Cream Chicken Enchiladas
Rice
Sweet Potatoes
Sweet Kale Salad, augmented
Rolls-Hawaiian
and bought desserts.
Sent the dairy and gluten items home with Brian.
(He didn't go to the movie).
/How to share?
Who to share?
Is here enough?
I don't think so.
The Sphinx needs its meaning.
/Daddy's ceramic Christmas tree's base broken.
We didn't have the packing materials then like we do now.
it sucks!
It had his initials and year ('79) on it.
/Marcia was looking it up on her phone for options to light it up again.
There's nothing to "do" from here.
At least, not at 4 in the morning.
The golden retrievers are barking across the alley behind us.
Maybe I'll pull a card.

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