February 9th, 2014

Sunday morning: Brett and I read to each other and discuss writing and what it means to examine and pursue truth, and how this pursuit is an exercise that can open things up in the mind. Later that night, my body tight, I took a hip and heart opening yoga class. Later that night I prepared for school. Later that night I cried at all this open space in my life where things before had been. Earlier we met a boy at CVS whose name began with a P. It was a name we had never seen before. Is it a family name? Brett asked. No. My dad saw it in a play once. We both tell him unique names bode well and when he lifts his head, his eyes smile. Behind him on the wall hangs a bear for valentines day that says on its belly "I love you this much". Its arms are designed to be, and stay, open wide. What does a watch dog say? Leanne, tell the joke! What does a watch dog say? And then I would bark. That's not the punch line, but I am three in yellow pajamas and I am pretending to be a dog and polishing the floor with my worn pajama-bottom knees. The other game: Leanne, how much do I love you? arms open wide like my mind now, like my hips and heart now, like the yawning grave, thiiiiiiiis much, he says, his mouth open, his arms open and his voice getting lost somewhere in his throat. This ends in a hug. I wriggle in my yellow pajamas. There wasn't always an emptiness, and there isn't now. Open, not empty.


February 8th, 2014

She said, well do it. Stop being a baby. So, I did. I wrote them a letter and I returned
their book. I thought it would be much harder than it was. When I took the cap off the
pen I braced myself for a violent response, for tears, for convulsions of the body. But
nothing happened except that my pen touched paper and I said hello. I told them I loved
them and that the love hadn't changed even though everything else had. I thanked them
for their kindness when I knew them and I told them how the Bible they gave me had
become one of my dearest possessions. I told them about teaching at the college and
speaking at conferences. I told them that I still pray for him, even when it's hard. I told
them I trusted I would heal even though it seemed to be taking a long time. When this
was done, I felt twenty pounds lighter, but also very sick, and, after two loads of laundry,
grocery shopping and buying new sheets, sitting on the kitchen floor with friends who
drank in preparation of going out, I put myself to bed with music that would soothe. I
woke to a memory of him at the beach, and felt again a sadness beyond measure. That
this was true doesn't surprise me. Some victories are many years in coming.


February 7th, 2014

At the end of the world the Olympics were held in Russia and the streets were full
of color and drink and many many dead dogs and the flesh beaten off of the LGBT
activists. Putin’s porcelain head was perfect and sculpted as usual, his expression a
haircut with every hair in place, and his lovers wore costumes that made them look
like everyone else except the one lover who held the torch for a time. The police men
stood on bleachers and sang Daft Punk in English moving their mouths over the vowels
in Russian. The Americans wore sweaters made of very thick yarn with things sewn
onto them. Many elementary school teachers from the 80‘s sighed in envy at the sight. It
was the night before an uneventful day and also the night before everything turned.
It was the last sip of milk before the carton went bad, but still, the discerning pallet
knew. I wheeled out my red wagon and bought many gallons of water, many rounds
of ammunition, and that dress I always wanted to wear. It is white. One should be
wearing white at the end of the world -- white against the orange sky, white against
the splitting earth, white as the stars fall, white as the water runs red.

February 6th, 2014

Remember when I cut all my hair off and looked like a little boy? Well, I'm
glad it's growing back. That is my good thing for the day. The students let
out a collective sigh like they had been holding a secret this length of time,
that no, they did not like my self-imposed hair cut, and that no they did not
support the acting out of my grief. If only they knew all the other ways I've
acted it out. Miss, please don't shave your head with scissors ever again. It
is a long day because I am hungover and since this is no longer a weekly
occurrence, I don't have the ready ability to deal with it. I pace and wring
my hands anxiously. I am too hot and all of my clothes are too confining.
When the day is over I rush home to hide in my room from a world I am
not always warm to, and on the porch is a package for me from Illinois. It
is from Margot. Inside is a beautiful and stately hanging crystal that I am
told later is Bavarian and quite old. That it came today is remarkable and
magic. It will catch the light even when I am too sad to look.