Weary. Busy with work. A pileup of women who are waiting for labor. Lynn and I will be busy soon, running here and there, catching babies. In a writing class in Duvall, a hellava drive from here on Sunday afternoon. Constant low level worry about money, about the dog who needs attention, what do I do with the dog when I'm gone for hours, days at a time. My trusty dog sitter Randy to the rescue.
Clark gave me a CD of his singing, piano and his sweet voice so full of ache and melancholy. I listened to him driving to work, wiping tears away as I walked into clinic. His rendition of Joni Michell's River so low and sorrowful.
Watching old Colombo episodes. That man has stains and wrinkles on his iconic raincoat. And a half smoked cigar. And a terrible old car. He was always busting the uber rich in their fancy houses with pools and hot tubs and red corvettes. O if it only were that easy
5 comments:
I love the thread of your mind in this post --
Have you ever seen Peter Falk playing himself in Wim Wenders' "Wings of Desire?"
It is all so constant, isn't it? The chains we wear of links of worry and care and doing and how? how? how?
And then come the moments when we can stop and truly be in a moment and everything else falls away and what glory that is.
Here's hoping that those babies space themselves out at little bit and are kind to their midwives, their mamas.
"Constant low level worry about money"
Boy do I feel you...I know just where that is.
Love "River". I don't have a copy of it, but I hear it in my head a lot.
Take care.
Elizabeth-I have a copy of Wings-Brilliant film
Mary-a baby this morning and another on the way, wheeeeee!
Lisa-Ug, not a good feeling. Ug.
It is so good such a goodness to be able to cry. I believe it with my whole heart. I have to. I love you Beth.
Rebecca
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