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© 2004-2008 Linda Escaip
"I may be grumpy, but I like you."
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The Suns and Moons of the Grumpiest Girl in the Room.
Welcome to my journal, puddin'.
Glad You Could Make It 24-Nov-2004 3:47 p.m.
"Does he like milk?"
My sister overheard a woman ask that question in a restaurant a few weeks ago. She was asking her child's nanny if her child liked milk. Her own child. I could understand if maybe she had inquired about something relatively obscure to a toddler's diet, like liver pâté, but milk? How could she not know? Maybe she had recently lost her memory. I'm going to pretend that's what it was.
I have felt anxious all day. My hands feel weird, and so do my legs. Maybe I should just take off my clothes and run down the street naked. That might fix everything. Wouldn't it be neat if it could? The answer to whatever ails you is in running naked through your neighbourhood. Preferably whilst yelling and flailing your arms. I think I would wear shoes, though, because I do so dislike stepping on pebbles and whatnot. I don't know that I have ever typed that word. Whatnot. I am going to make it a habit.
So, tomorrow is Thanksgiving. That'll be nice. I always look forward to the stuffing; that's my thing. And the cranberry sauce. I don't eat turkey. My God, how I fascinate you. I don't know why anybody eats turkey, come to think of it. It always smells like Susie's dog. (My childhood friend Susie had a very cute dog who smelled the way turkey smells when it gets that unpleasant stench, and how a glass of water can sometimes smell—you know what I'm talking about.)
You have to love those people who are thankful, or who even think about being thankful, that one day out of the year. Well, at least they make the effort, if only once annually. They're like the people who feel all warm and mushy around Christmas, and who go right back to being asstarts once the festivities have ended. But still, at least they got there for a little while.
I miss everyone; all my loves no longer living in this world. In a perfect world the veil would be thinner. I wish I could change everything. Death doesn't care how much you like someone, or how much comfort they give you in a weird world. It takes them when it's time and there they go.
I think of my friend Rae and how she loved her life. I want to go to her place for dinner. I want to find the chips and homemade guacamole there waiting for me, with a glass of cold 7-Up. I want to sit with her and Bea and end up talking about our dental experiences, like always. I swear we were all dentists in a past life. I felt hopeful in her presence. I want to laugh with her and drink coffee and get sleepy because I feel so comfortable there. I want to hug her goodnight and know I'll see her again.
I think of Grandma Alice, and how wonderful it was when we would pull into their driveway and she and Grandpa would be there waiting for us, waving and smiling. Gram would pucker her lips and give us a big smooch. I miss the mole by her mouth and the way she said, "Yee-eelllooowww" when she would answer the phone. I can hear her voice and her laugh in my head and in my heart. And my Grandpa, whose curled mustache could have won awards, even if awards for such things don't exist. He was full of good advice and encouragement. I miss his sense of humour. He could throw me into hysterics with one glance. I want to play Yahtzee with them again for dimes. I want to hear their stories and sleep in that room with the Virgin Mary statue.
I think of Aunt Virginia, who was one of the loveliest people ever to live on this planet. She was dealt a difficult hand and played it with grace. I miss her smile and her sweetness. I miss her hugs. I learned a great deal about compassion from her.
I think of Grandma Lily, and how her face would light up when she answered the door to find me there. She lived around the corner and I loved to visit her. She also taught me a lot about compassion. She broke my heart with her stories about my grandfather, who had passed away before I was born. She was angry at him for dying. She scared the living holy shit out of me with her stories about the end of the world, and Jesus coming back to take us all to heaven. (I'll save that whole thing for another entry.) But man, how I adored her. My heart would flood with love when I was near her. She kept Coffee Nips on top of her refrigerator for me when I visited. She loved Cher—thought she was the greatest. "When you grow up and become a famous singer, you'll be just like Cher!" Which is sort of funny, because a gay man I once met at The Moustache Cafe asked me out on a date because he thought I looked like Cher. Isn't that great? Grandma would be proud. I have become a pro at missing her, having had to live without her since I was ten. But I smell her house sometimes and know she is with me.
I think of Aunt Ruth and her laugh. And her beautiful eyes. I think of Uncle Frank and his hilarious stories. I think of Aunt Esther and all the childhood memories she shared with me, and that time she and Grandma Alice came to see one of my shows, all dressed up. God, that makes me smile.
I think of Ozzie, and how he left me here. He didn't mean to, I know that. He was my twin star and I don't really know how to explain that. He was a couple years older and taught me how to tie my shoes. I have only known one other person who possesses his amount of patience, and that's Bea. He was my protector, and he was good at it. I would make up these crazy, dangerous scenarios, and he would save me from them every time. The world rested on his shoulders. I could never bear to see him cry, so I would act like a lunatic until he laughed through his tears. I have memories of him that are so sweet they are almost unkind. Do you know what I mean?
I think of the animals I will forever love who have gone. Candy. Caesar. Charlie. Kelly. Mustang Sally. Chloe. Augustine. I miss them all.
Fuck. Life can break your heart. It can also make it bigger, and mine is huge because of the love I've known. My heart has been broken a million times, but I just keep putting it back together. That is what we do, isn't it? We keep going. We put things back together, sometimes even better than they were before. We can do that.
I wish you a happy Thanksgiving, even if you're not American. I wish for you the ability to see it all and know what everything means to you. Pay attention to your life.
Thanks for reading this. I'm off to spend some time with someone I wouldn't want to live without.
Linda
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