The inches of her red velvet dress cinched up. I can see her calves, sexy in their tightness. I imagine her at her boudoir, hair up, working mascara into the length of her lashes. She’s only wearing a bodice. The curve of her milky bottom against the black lace veers me from my role as an objective curator of art and into the sensual. I put down my pen and approach, hoping she’ll turn to me with that rapturous look she sometimes gets, that we can mess up her makeup together.
The black furry cat slinks into the kitchen and watches the out-of-doors like it were a fish tank. I walked with my friend Megan earlier as the sunshine strode at last into the valley, lighting the snow-capped peaks on this first frosty morning of what will at some point truly delve into winter. For now, all that’s gold remains.
Twin cravings alight from my belly for tea and for eggs. I resist, feeling my stomach muscles and those in my shoulders long to stay here for what I appreciate even more than creature comforts, that long stream of infinity that comes when the muse pours her sensuality all over my welcome shores. I am suffused. I am erected. I am washed clean, taken out to sea, and returned wholly unmade and satisfied. Thank you, sister wildness. Thank you for being so much more than you appear.
The kitten bats around something in my office that sounds from here like paper. I look up to see some brown packaging has migrated from the closet into the hallway. That is allowed.
I’ve always craved caffeine when I was stressed. Why? Why do we long for the hair of the dog so much?
Everything hurts even in its beauty and joy. I have never felt more thankful for a life I might name. As I drove home from walking with Morgan, I said to the universe, I’m ready. I’m willing to be ready for the adventure that lies ahead. Even though I still long to hide, though I still long to have nothing happen, please prepare my nervous system to say yes to the amazing life you want for me. There’s nothing else I need.
I relax on the shores of the churning, wild fabulous sea. She isn’t done with me. I’m catching my breath, at long last, hoping, trusting that my atoms will jostle open to all the light that wants to be through me.
Thank you, kind ocean, mother of God, divine feminine, for rocking me safely open to all that’s being born. I surrender. Take me, woman. Take me all the way home.