Thursday, July 29, 2010

Kansas City in July

Hot here: the sun is like iron weights. Bright and heavy.

I love

drinking iced coffee in Broadway Coffee. Sun through the huge panes. Sun and shadow wavering in the heat on the white tile. Clatter of mugs and voices. Steamed milk. Outside there are dogs, bikes, and a row of guys sitting on chairs in the heat.

I love

the farmers' market on Saturday morning. Huge tomatoes, tomatillos, eggplant. A five-year-old sold me espresso cookies. A woman sold me bread. There are flowers in buckets, babies in slings. Morning murmur amongst fruit, potted plants, tents flapping in the hot wind.

I love

cicadas in the evening as we eat ice cream. Ice cream melting. Cold and heat. Heat heat--even into the night. Ceiling fans at night. My pregnant body sweating.

I love the skyline. I love the sun blinding. I love the huge trees in Hyde Park. I love the brick streets in Westport. I love the smell of grass.

I love
I love

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

A Pregnant Pause

We have come to our last week in Scotland. My emotions are mixed. Going home (home!) means full weight of responsibility, reality--the reality of a child--the end of the nurturing bubble of the university. Going back to Kansas City means going back to my own childhood, haunts and heavens, false memories and hidden memories.

Tonight in Anstruther it is raining, the flat is nearly empty, the last meal has been cooked and eaten. We have said goodbye to our friends, our favorite places. Strange--leaving, arriving.

This past month has been slow: slow writing, slow thinking, slow moving body. The seasonal warmth has come slowly to Fife. Summer is tentative--chill winds, fast moving clouds, roses as big as plates, gone in a day in the sea air. Heat comes slowly, if at all. I am slow in all things, have a difficult time being present, committing to the days as they pass. I am slow to wake up in the morning. Slower to fall asleep. I worry about the future. I don't even know what things I should worry about (as a parent) so my worry is spread thinly over everything, seeping into strange crevices. Peace. Peace. I learn peace slowly.

Lord carry me. Show me your days.