Beginnings

There’s just something about fresh sheets on the bed. Maybe it’s the crispness. The newness. The different colors and textures. Dunno but, for whatever strange reason, hope is inspired.

Also too, late summer’s subtly perfumed air. It’s mebbe most pronounced right after a rain storm. I was at the post office, nowhere near the beach and yet, I caught the scent of high tide off the still wet granite steps. It was mixed with the fragrance of warm, wet stone, green grass, coneflowers and asters.

Patrick snarfing cannolis

This coming Wednesday, school, kindergarten, begins for Erin’s good, brill boy Patrick. This IS a big fucking deal and I want to do something to make this day just a tiny bit more special but WHAT? Maybe I’ll get him a Godzilla T (it’s what any self-respecting kindergartner would wear, ya know) or a Wonder Woman pencil box or mebbe a Silver Surfer backpack. Does anyone even make those because, hells bells, I want one. The Godzilla T too!

I must confer with his Aunt Bubba (that’s Jen!) so’s I don’t get anything wickedly age inappropriate – like Led Zepp’s boxed set or Bowie’s Who Can I Be Now? OR the collected works of Nietzsche . Hey, it’s never too early to start thinking big deep thoughts whilst groovin’ to Diamond Dogs or Whole Lotta Love. Ya know?

I don’t remember my anticipatory emotions WAY back when I was about to start  kindergarten. OF COURSE I don’t! Fer fuck’s sake, that was back in the days when pterodactyls and pteranodon  graced the skies, menacing velociraptors bullied the groundlings then and shit. I think I was excited until, that is, I walked through the door in my new, crisp, cute uniform and saw ALL those other kids, STRANGERS, dressed just like me. (they totally ripped off my grand sartorial statement! I had a big sad.). Then there was Sister Christina, all decked out in miles of darker than midnight on a cloudless night black fabric with the stiff, mega starched, screamingly white neck and head piece. Sister Christina never smiled and was scary as motherfucking hell.

I recall wondering:

1. Do nuns have ears? You never saw them without the veil and other head bindings – maybe they don’t.
2. What about hair? Do they gots any?
3. What do they wear to the beach? One piece black bathing suits and wimples?
4. Do they ever smile and WHY are they always angry (though, if I had to put on that kit every morning, I’d be pretty damn cranky too.)

OK, so maybe I do remember a few things.

Erin will NOT be sending Patrick to catholic school – a choice I wholeheartedly, standing o applaud.

Nobody can break their bondage
Everyone can feel their chains
But even in my life I knew you found your sight
And nothing would be quite the same

Please help me
Who can I be now? You found me
Who can I be? Fell apart, you found me
Now can I be now? You found me
Now can I be real?
Can I be real?

Bowie – Who Can I Be Now?