jolie laide

jolie laide

I started this when I lived in Brooklyn and struggled for grace in a city that grants moments of beauty and ugliness breathtakingly close to one another. Now I live in a place where things are a different kind of ugly and the beauty is pedestrian. I struggle with that.


We wake up to a Saturday with no espresso, so we go to the chain coffee joint by the highway. People here aren't better looking than anywhere else, they just seem unaware of their ugliness. The toddler ensconced in an enormous baby buggy and ignored. The lady who has taken all her style cues from Ali McGraw of 40 years ago walks out with three or four pastries and two coffees and by the way she waits, plucking at the clothes that hang from her bones, it looks like impending scarf-and-barf. Only one guy, wide as a door and shambling, seems to be at all comfortable.

I spent a bit of time yesterday remembering the lace of scars that used to cover my skin and the hatred and fear that put them there. They are all healed and gone now, and you would never know unless I told you. It's been a good ten years and I am grateful for the distance.

The lettuces and the herbs are growing nicely. There is even one strawberry reddening in its pot on the deck. This morning gave cool air and a lone woodpecker. I have one day to get ready for what the next five will bring and that will have to be enough.


Blogger goodwillgirl said...

Lovely. It is good to put despair and hope side by side, I think.

9:46 AM  

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