By Ricey Wild
Crickets. They are out in full force here in Rezberry and while their songs are ancient and sweet, I still mourn this past summer. Not that I did anything much but I tearfully remembered what I used to do when I was fully abled. It’s a crushing realization that I’m older, and I have yet to accept I won’t be white water rafting anytime soon, unless that is where my ashes are scattered.
Hey now! Morbidity has its benefits too. Like “Did I do that?” and so on. Ya, I did and the memories keep me up at night. There are a lot of people who did me wrong and still have it coming, so I’m waiting in the stands with popcorn to enjoy whilst I watch Karma do her shit. I know this is way vague but it’s all I have right now. Point is, I got mine and I’m not gonna regret checking out.
Mitzi Rose is snoring in her dog nest, just cute near me. There have been instances when I woke in bed to snoring and someone really warm next to me. My first thought was “who is this now?” Ayy!!! I forgot I am now a nun and snag-less. Pure as the driven snow.
Anyways, I am still cognizant of how horrible the world is now. I cut my DISH sat and now YouTube is my go-to for world news. It ain’t no different, we are all helpless and caught in the same web.
Tom Petty is grooming his underparts right behind me now. Lenny Katvitz finally decided that living inside (after escaping for five weeks, during which he crafted a bachelor crib underneath the broken down car) is better. What must have been such tortuous conditions, and he is now just skinny. I can feel his vertebrae but at least he’s here now and will fatten up again. Lenny actually came up and purred at me tonight, askin for some love! Purr!!!
You don’t know what you got till it’s gone, ennit?
As to that for real, it’s purge time. I mean, why the dee-deet-didee do I need all this stuff for? Garbage sales have been my weakness for most of this weird stuff I live alongside. It may be that I was severely deprived of junky stuff because we were too poor to get anything other than necessities. I used to enjoy shopping at Goodwill until they became corporate, making profits off poor people (me).
Like so many other people who drive miles to find a bargain…um… my Gramma Rose told me that Indians never wasted a scrap. There was always another use for bits and pieces. Like when I was but a wee girl, I slept under heavy quilts that my Great-Gramma Delma LaPrairie sewed up in her foot-pedal sewing machine. It would be an antique now.
I can still feel the weight of love and compassion sleeping under her quilts as a child. Then there was the time when three of us were in bed. No! Stay with me on this. Gramma was on the outside of the bed, and I was in between her and my Aunt Sue. Gram never got tired of telling this story: I peed in the bed, Aunt Suzie puked and Gramma Rose laughed, then told the story over and over again. Yanno, like oral history, like our ancestors did. I meant to do better for my descendants, so y’all could hold your chins up high, like I have but here is just the beginning.
The crickets are too drunk or tired now so no choruses. The orchestra has broken wings which need to be repaired by tomorrow’s concert. And that, my dears, is the metaphor of my life.
Naw! I didn’t know until I read what I wrote. I’m going to bed so I will finish this up later.
Later:
Doing some self-reflection or navel-gazing as a failed female journalist I laugh at would say (DL); I get to be me, no apologies or excuses any more. This is my legacy for generations of female Indigenous writers now and those who will come. It will be funny if a student has an assignment to condense any of my writings! To them, I say I’m sorry.
I tried to be a good person and if I could pat myself on the back I would. In no way did I set out to hurt anyone. The thing is I am human too and need a firm spanking to get me back in line.
Vibes yo! Right now I have some peace but it never lasts long, truth.
It’s like my ole Unk Gene used to say; Just be you and the rest can go to the ditchbanks.
