24 hours

Yesterday we were sitting around a table in a Venezuelan restaurant and watching the waiter watch WWF instead of bring our check. It was ok--I have been in worse binds. And then there was a show a town away and a compelling reason to be there. My name was on the VIP list. The bouncer touched my shoulder as I walked by. 'Ooh, you are important!' I function function functioned all the way up until the end, through a few drinks and a few secrets and localized dancing, and past the time my friends were ready to leave. It's ok. I have a way home. And I'm still not afraid of sitting at a table alone. Besides, I was was/am/will be entirely occupied whenever I'm in that sort of audience. The balance shifted from needed to needy when the music faded and the bar emptied. I realized the poems I'd been scribbling were nonsense; I realized I'd been awake for too long to follow lines. I wished my sweater zipper worked. I wished I were already at home, and that home was different. It was so hard for me to leave the shoulder and arm that had been mooring me and make my way inside alone. He drove away before I'd found my keys. I was heavy. I fell asleep at 4:00 am in the middle of a thought and woke five hours later to a blanket load of new snow and a pounding body ache. Forgot my downsides when there was a familiar voice at my door and then a bonecrushingly anticipated bear hug from the brother whom I have had to live without for four months (AND IT SHOWED). I would have said--well, for the rehearsals and the hormones and the braving the cold, there could be worse days! But my car wouldn't start. Because, probably, I'd just yesterday been talking about how for five years it's never let me down. I stood in the road, wet feet and frazzled hands, wishing I'd be catching snowflakes on my tongue instead of making harried phone calls... can I borrow the car? No, really. Trudged down the long road (It seemed), dug out another, inched through town. Starving. Hadn't managed to eat lunch. The rehearsal, now, that was fine. It was long without dragging. I was clear and my timing was in place. But I again felt needy. My pant legs didn't dry entirely even after I'd been in the church for two hours. And I had to pry the silver ring off my finger (I just typed pry the silver finger off my ring and almost didn't want to fix it) as I inched across town again. With a taco. With a headache. My car still wouldn't start. I checked again. I heated up the leftover coffee and told myself, don't worry because the best part of the day is to come! If I make it there! I am tired of snow already and it's been three quarters of a day and two inches. But my entire family was fitting around the dining room table again this evening. It'd been a while. And the kid on my right, wow. Do you know, there's really just something about the way I love that brother of mine? It's different. We put together a Christmas tree. This is the first year it's fake. I craved the scent of pine. In the crowded den we cycled through hundreds of photos of Africa. Quickly--we'll go slow later, when the jetlag wears off and the gaps have been filled in. He seems to have been enamored of tiny flowers and goats. My mind wandered. I think I was comparing skin tones. We watched a movie, we juggled cars and keys and logistics and times. I am grateful to my car for cutting out after my dad has moved here and not before. He puts the right thoughts into my head. I am home now. Kind of hiding. Wishing I had eyes and ears at a restaurant across town, because this somehow seems more feasible than sending my whole body. My feet have been cold all day, and my eyelids are slick and feeling poisonous. My highs and my lows have not been taking turns, and I think that's a sign that I need to sleep. Will wake up in the morning in time for the Christmas cantata that needs my help--unless it ices over and is canceled. In that case, let's spend the day in bed.