Day 28

January 28, 2021

The sun came out just for me, really.

There's a story to be told today.  I'm not sure what it is, but I know that throughout the day I have been attempting to begin a story.  I don't know where to start though.  When I got out of bed this morning, early I grabbed a handful of old photos to go through that were my Mom's  Memories flooded my brain, it was too early for me to have put the filters on and there I was in memory land.  Several of the photos were set in Pt. Reyes Station, Ca., my Mom's favorite place away from home.  (maybe mine too)

I realized I really miss family and I miss comradery.  I wanted a friend to come over and play, and if I couldn't have that I wanted a piece of chocolate cake.  I couldn't have that either.  

I realized I could take a ride, a very short one, and that the sun was out for the first time in a couple of days.  I could pretend I was going to the ocean and head for the Connecticut River.  

Still, there were memories and the beginning of a story line forming in my brain.  What is it?

My Mom's first love was a cellist.  They knew each other for over 50 years, their relationship outlasting both of their marriages.  One of the pictures I found this morning is of several of Mom's California friends and my niece, Sarah at about the age of 10.   They are all at Aunt Lois's and they've spent the day playing music and I'm sure eating oysters.  Sarah, now 4 4,  says she remembers it as a special day and that everybody there loved her grandmother.  People loved her grandmother.  She was smart and talented and slightly wicked.    And there's a story in there, somewhere.

Some friends built this snow man last night alongside the river right before the fish ladder.  I think he's playing solitaire in the cold.  Must be really cold naked today, even in the sun.

I know there's a story, just look at the sky, how could there not be a story, or at least a poem about the ghosts who come to stay?   They come and visit periodically.  Bobby is the main ghost.  He's the one who appears in my poems and my dreams and often he's with my old dog Curry.  Curry travels with him, mainly on ocean vessels.  They don't need the ship to sail, but it's fun to board an old wooden ship and sail around Cape Horn.  When they are back this way they come and spend a few nights with me and catch up on their sleep.   

I actually miss the days when visitors came for a couple nights and I'd cook good food and we'd talk til late in the night.  

Tonight is the full moon and the first full moon in months that I haven't been out trying to capture her magic with my camera.  But it is really cold out there and I didn't have the fortitude.  The first night I met Bobby was in January 1969, I believe.  It was cold, really cold and we were both pent up and hurt.  He got me to go outside and wrestle in the snow without a coat or mittens on, and we screamed at the top of out lungs.  I loved him immediately.  He stayed with the family for 3 years after that.  One of Mom's extra children, not that he was a child, he and Paul were in college together.  But Bobby came to live and we rode roller coasters, he taught me never to wear yellow, we played lots of Russian Bank and we loved each other until his death in 1981.  

There's a story in everything today.  Someday come over for tea and ask me about them.