July 14, 2016 - Daily Notes, From the Editor
Outside the maple leaves are rustling with the sort of lush, green, thick sound that brings to mind youth. Vibrance. Health. Abundance. It is a time of year one might be tempted to dwell in forever.
But we are mortal and so we are aging. What I really want to write is that my dad could have died over the Fourth of July. I went home that Saturday and saw the cosmos in his eyes. They were deep, dark blue, and they shone. I could not see the surface, nor the bottom. It felt as though he saw through me, too. In those moments, I felt fear and peace at once.
I am recovering, now. Quiet, in my living room. As if things could be normal ever again. He is recovering, too, as he always does. Tough, determined, stubborn and strong. Life is different now that he is on dialysis. Normal is new, new is normal.
He called me "honey" when I telephoned the other day. There was a sweetness in his voice, it sounded like gratitude. Watching the way he and my mother love and care for one another through this, my heart grows and my eyes water. I can feel the expansion in my chest, that familiar and always altogether new sensation of tight, exquisite pangs. It is as if the muscle fibers are drawing away from one another, leaving hundreds of microscopic wounds, the way we do when we grow. The tearing comes first, then we heal. Stronger.
Laying next to my boyfriend on a blanket by the lake last night, I watched the moon rise into a sky of stars. He was telling me something, so I turned my head and met his gaze. My peripheral vision noticed his masculine body silhouetted in the moonlight--youthful, healthy, vibrant--but I saw his eyes through the lens of time, as though he were already 83, like my dad. In that moment, the way I love him deepened. The way I love everything did.
I am beginning to learn how to love what is here, now, before me. It is much different than loving a potential, possible future. It is different than loving a dream. It is more tender, more vulnerable to do it this way. It is also more satisfying. It is real. Like the cosmos in his eyes.
xo
laura
Laura Lowery is the founder, editor and publisher of Lucia. She does her best to lead a creative life. Whether triumphant or stumbling, Laura shares daily notes (that are often weekly) here on luciajournal, including stories, behind-the-scenes happenings, little doses of inspiration, and large quantities of curiosity and heart. She is pleased to meet you.