ezme648w's Journal

@@@@@"Thanks for everything He gave me the
@@@@@"Thanks for
everything He gave me the smallest of puzzled looks
as he went out, so maybe he did noticeMaybe he
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did notice, at thatI was on my
own at lastI listened to shells and gravel
popping under his tires as his car started to roll
I listened to the motor fade
Now there was only the mild steady sighing of the
GulfAnd the beat of my own heart, soft and lowNot ringing, not bonging, not even
tickingI breathed deep and smelled the musty,
slightly damp aroma of a place that's been shut up
for a fairly long time except for the weekly (or
bi-weekly) ritual airingI thought I could also
smell salt and subtropical grasses for which I as
yet had no names
Mostly I listened to the sigh of the waves, so
like the breath of some large sleeping creature,
and looked out through the glass wall that fronted
on the waterBecause of Big Pink's elevation, I
couldn't see the beach at all from where I was
sitting, fairly deep in the living room; from my
armchair I might have been on one of those big
tankers that trudge their oily courses from
Venezuela to GalvestonA high haze had crept over
the dome of the sky, muting the pinpricks of light
on the waterTo the left were three palm trees
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silhouetted against the sky, their fronds ruffling
in the mildest of breezes: the subjects of my
first tentative post-accident sketchDon't look
much like Minnesota, dere, Tom Riley had said
Looking at them made me want to draw again - it
was like a dry hunger, but not precisely in the
belly; it made my mind itchAnd, oddly, the stump
of my amputated arm
I heaved myself out of the chair on my second try,
glad the kid wasn't there to see the first
backward flop and hear my childish ("Cuntlicker!")
cry of exasperationOnce I was up I stood swaying
on my crutch for a moment, marveling at just how
tired I wasUsually "whipped" was just something
you said, but at that moment it was exactly how I
felt
Moving slowly - I had no intention of falling in
here on my first day - I made my way into the
master bedroomThe bed was a king, and I wanted
nothing more than to go to it, sit on it, sweep
the foolish decorative throw-pillows (one bearing
the likenessness of two cavorting Cockers and the
rather startling idea that MAYBE DOGS ARE ONLY
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PEOPLE AT THEIR BEST) to the floor with my crutch,
lie down, and sleep for two hours
But first I went to the bench at the end of the
bed - still moving carefully, knowing how very
easy it would be to tangle my feet and fall when I
was at this level of exhaustion - where the kid
had stacked two of my three suitcasesThe one I
wanted was on the bottom, of co