Gonnie

"FOREST THROUGH THE TREES",  2002,  4' x 6', m/m

"FOREST THROUGH THE TREES", 2002, 4' x 6', m/m

 

I couldn’t say  ‘Grammie’  so her name,  for me,  became Gonnie.

She was the person in my life who really SAW me,

She tended my spirit whether I wore bright blue eyeshadow and tatters as a teenager or went with her to the Village Woman’s Club for lunch.

We just seemed to like each other’s company.   And that was good as she pretty much raised me.

We had a quiet relationship.

We went to the pond down the block to feed the ducks and look at the black swans she bought for the city that made their nests in small islands of grasses.

Black swans with bright orange beaks.

We gardened together and tended rosebushes and raspberry tangles.

We grilled fat steaks on the patio and waited for the neighborhood basset hound,  Totter,  to come by for his treat.

All this with very little chat or conversation at all.

I thought of her today because I saw a goldfinch in my tree.  Then another.   Then another.

They are always a harbinger of her,  for me.

After she died,  that same bubble of quiet we knew so well together happened as I was at her memorial lunch at her home.

The whole family was there and all of a sudden everything sort of started to fuzz out.

I was sitting on her glass porch at the table she pulled a chair up to each and every day to play cards and feel her dog’s warmth at the small of her back.

She had a bird feeder right outside the window to watch their doings up close.

As I sat there at her table and as the world as I knew it began to blurr,  a bright yellow goldfinch landed on the feeder and sang.

I somehow knew it was orchestrated by her.   For me.

It was a  ‘top-five’  life experience.

All that life substance I just related occurred in quiet,  I realize.

Lately, I really notice myself pulling a cloak of silence around me.  Daily, I seem to secure the wrap with more purpose.

I’m not depressed.   It’s not that kind of retreat.

More of an invitation to a life less populated by the inundation of stuff and sound and ideas and purpose.

Does that seem heretical?

I keep wanting what I call  ‘THE SPACE BETWEEN’.

Honestly,  I’m not really sure I know what that is….

But I think it has something to do with that goldfinch.

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