wild things

eddie woke me up a 5 am

we like to share the quiet 

of the morning together 

he patiently sits beside me 

as I light my candles

arrange my crystals

breathe 

meditate

say my prayers

a covid-inspired mashup

of all the things I’m grateful for

and a long list of wtf’s

then I pour myself a cup of coffee

and give eddie a piece of cheese

before settling into my favorite chair

to read the morning news

i can feel my heart rate start to rise

as I scroll thru the daily dreadlines

each one more terrifying than the last

and a passage from a children’s book

i used to read so many years ago 

when life seemed much simpler

and I wasn’t so afraid

of terrible unknown things

comes into my head

and I realize I have sailed 

through night and day 

and in and out of weeks 

to the place where the wild things are

and when i come to the place where the wild things are

“they roar their terrible roars and gnash their terrible teeth and roll their terrible eyes and show their terrible claws”

till i say BE STILL

and i close my laptop

and put on my running shoes

eddie looks at me with a knowing gaze

then we head out to our favorite trail

not a soul in sight

I think of wendell berry’s wild things

“when despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water and the great heron feeds I come into the peace of wild things…for a time I rest in the grace of the world and am free”

and I feel that deep in my bones

deep in my soul

the grace of the world

just me and my dog

and the snow-covered peaks

the stillness

the reverence

the sound of my breath

like a prayer on repeat 

and I wish I could just keep going

run forest run

from dusk to dawn

until the world makes sense again

and my despair for what my life

and my children’s lives will be

has completely worn away

but my middle aged body

can’t run that far

so we finish our loop

and get back in the car

where npr is waiting

with all the new news from

new york new jersey new orleans

and I feel my despair begin to grow

as I drive through what feels like

night and day 

and in and out of weeks 

back home

where my children are

living out their lives 

inside four walls

which I am incredibly grateful for 

but also wtf

they should be

going to class

going to prom

these are the days

they should look back upon 

when they are middle aged like me

and remember fondly

and also faintly with awe

at how wild and free

they used to be

they should have stories

they don’t want their parents to know

carefree not so smart

oh when we were young

sorts of stories that they will

laugh about with their

middle aged friends 

comparing remember when’s

but instead they sit

at our kitchen table 

taking notes

taking tests

taking bets

on when life will get back to normal

when they will go back to school

back to boyfriends and girlfriends

back to parties on weekends

back to where the wild things are 

creating all their remember when’s

until one of them says

lets go for a walk

and we all close our laptops

and head for the door

my son takes us to his favorite spot

atop a hill behind our house 

and I wonder how many times

he brought friends here before

perhaps to smoke weed

or drink a cold beer

on a warm summer night

to laugh and sing slightly off key

“freedom’s just another word for nuthin left to lose, nuthin don’t mean nuthin if it ain’t free and feelin good was easy lord when bobby sang the blues, you know feeling good was good enough for me, good enough for me and bobby mcgee”

wait that’s one of 

my own remember when’s

from way back when

the world seemed so much simpler

we head back home

taking a different route

and wind up lost

(there’s a metaphor in that)

walking through a neighbor’s yard 

who slams her door

and screams GET OUT

i look at the shock on my 

children’s faces

and remember again

a time not too far back when

they’d all lay in my bed 

as i read where the wild things are

and the unneighborly neighbor

roared her terrible roar

and gnashed her terrible teeth

and rolled her terrible eyes

and showed her terrible claws

and I just wanted to tell her BE STILL

and tame her with my magic trick 

of staring into her eyes

without blinking once

and she’d realize that

i was the queen of all wild things

and I’d yell

let the wild rumpus start

but instead

i said sorry

we live just over the hill

i don’t care where you live

she yelled louder still

and I realized we really were lost

all of us

and the despair crept back in

settling deep in my bones

as we walked through what felt like

night and day 

and in and out of weeks 

back home over the hill in silence

later that night I remembered

a mary oliver poem

“tell me about despair, yours and I will tell you mine, meanwhile the world goes on meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes over the prairies and the deep trees the mountains and the rivers, meanwhile the wild geese high in the clean blue air are heading home again, whoever you are no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination calls to you like the wild geese harsh and exciting  over and over announcing your place in the family of things”

and I mused over it all

as I poured a glass of wine

announcing my place

in the family of things

i am the queen of all wild things

let the wild rumpus start

goodnight