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second story living room windows




my life is in boxes at present....

and I still haven't found my toothpaste...
or my tweezers...
or my watch....



but with a determined probing saturday afternoon, I
had flung through the bags and crates and piles in my
bedroom and found it.

patience.

because it was raining, outside those huge second
story bedroom windows.  and my hardwood floors were
begging to be danced upon.

after a few dizzy and exhausted spins, I plunked my
person by one of those windows and by my dear jay. 
there was a steady drip from the ceiling, into the
bucket.  there was a steady drumming of drops on the
pane, and of jay's fingers following every beat.

and there was my father, sitting in the chair by the
baywindow, furrowing his brow as he watched the
gushing in the streets.

and across the room, my mom, looking relieved as she
drank her coffee.

we had been furrowing and plunking and shoving and
wrenching through the worldly possessions of my sister
and myself.  we had been moving steadily and now it
was a pretty grand relief to await the pizza delivery,
drink coffee, and investigate a case of beer.

and patience played, karin singing about close oceans
and cadences that we hear.

and I grinned at just how appropriate and stange and
beautiful it was.  I had to tell you about it, just
because it was.

because we had moved everything we could, one morning.
 and here we were, my parents, my lover, and me in a
living room...
   my parents hearing over the rhine for the first
time and not at all realising it was music that had
struck and stirred the couple sitting by the window
quite so much...

and just looking out the window, and grinning at the
rain in anticipation of the stuff that would take
place in that living room, on those hardwood floors.

(hardwood floors to dance on.
 write on.
 paint on.
 windows to fly through....

 a place to drink coffee with a nearby friend...
 space.  quiet.  space.  privacy.)


I am very happy.


lynzi renee'
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