edge of the continent

I have returned from my adventures in London (why, I do not know)… a bit jetlagged but none the worse for wear. I thought I might update while I was gone, but I found that my time away from driving and telephones and working on the computer was refreshing and so skipped it. Over the course of the weekend I’ll post some of my holiday scribbles and perhaps some photos as they are developed; in the meantime I’ve got a roll of film to finish and send off to Carla for The Holiday Film Exchange and a turkey to cook for my family’s day-after-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving celebration, or whatever they are calling it.

Now that my passport issues have cleared up with no time to spare, I travel in less than forty-eight hours for a city that is a stranger to me. I imagined that I might be bouncing off the walls with my departure so near; instead I am feeling surprisingly calm and open… to adventure, perhaps, or moving forward, or to answers and truths I need to find.

There’s a full moon tonight and the air is clear. The faint stink of the estuary at low tide is gently swept away by campfires burning sweetly along the shore, while citylights twinkle and shine on the distant hills of Mexico and smear in long, skinny stripes on the glass-topped bay. This has been my home for thirteen years… it’s funny how I feel so much more cordial towards it when I’m about to step out for awhile.

the rain came down in a steady drizzle during the entire drive north: slunk down in the passenger’s seat, staring out the window at a world washed out in gray, rushing past exits leading to streets and towns and places unknown. Thinking. Drifting. Thinking of how I have been drifting all these years and haven’t quite managed to make it anywhere but here to this car, escaping my life for a rainy day in L.A. I’m still here because of a lame uncertainty and of fear and of not choosing. I’ve managed to not finish much of what I’ve started, save for a few relationships that bloomed and faded and jobs that did little more than drain my soul. My loves — my music and my writing — have received a shameful lack of attention. I still harbor dreams in my heart: they used to be grand, somewhat ridiculous visions of saving the world that have since evolved into something simpler and more substantive, but the dreams are still just dreams and i am still here, always wishing to be there, and never quite ending up anywhere I want to be.

Breath, heartbeat. Finite things. There is no time for this.

my dad called to tell me that something is wrong again — something about an infection that is not responding to any of the antibiotics my grandmother has been receiving — and mentioned vague talk of arrangements for hospice care, how soon, i don’t know. my family isn’t known for providing clear medical information during times of crisis and my sister and i find ourselves repeatedly frustrated by the quality of the second-, third- and sometimes fourth-hand information we receive here at the end of the line. both of us are impatient (why aren’t they asking about this or looking for that?), feeling guilty (this is their mom — they are likely too upset to be thinking about some of the questions that have come our minds), and quietly riding it out as we wait for more news.

when i was young and had a fever my mom would sit at the edge of my bed and hold cool washcloths to my forehead in an effort to make me feel better. as i can’t be there to hold a cloth to my grandmother’s head i’ll sit still and picture in my mind that i am drawing the fever from her body… it may sound a bit silly, but other than sending my love i know of no other way to heal her. i had an overblown sinus infection earlier this week with a fever, chills, congestion, nausea — the works — and i took it for granted that my body would respond to some rest and medication and bounce back — which it has. but our bodies fail us at some point, and when antibiotics and rest aren’t enough i’m left with little more than love, hope, and a quiet meditation in the corner of the room.

but god if it still doesn’t feel like enough.