Walking and waiting

Last week I hit the curb hard and ruined a tire. Today I paid the price. Three hours and umpteen dollars. Waiting seemed archetypal. Waiting for the tire to be fixed. Waiting for the tires to be aligned. Waiting for spring. Waiting for my sister’s move to be over, the younger boy to settle, the vacation to get planned, waiting for indictments, waiting for this part of the nightmare to be over

A small space of discovery opened while walking behind the buildings across from the tire place. Just one or two buildings away from busy Washington Street, we found a surprising and welcome quiet. I couldn’t believe how quiet it was, actually.

The angles made by industrial buildings were stark against a very blue sky. Shadows had volume. There were distressed surfaces to love.

I came home utterly exhausted. Sewed. Ate an omelet. Took a bath. Now? Waiting for K to get home.

Before I go, though, this — we walked past the rehab center / nursing home that my sister spent ten days at last year. All those visits and I never noticed the “dead end” sign. Ha! You can just make it out below, faintly visible under a striping shadow.

She, actually, was the most exhausting part of my day. Fortunately for you, all the processing of a series of ugly, ugly moments went into my Daily Pages.

17 thoughts on “Walking and waiting

  1. deb

    My two sisters and brother all live near one another, help each other out. They’ll go through this eventually and I’m glad I’m 800 miles away. Then again, I’m alone.

    1. deemallon Post author

      My brother helps out financially, thank goodness. He is otherwise hands off. I wouldn’t mind being the one writing the checks. But at least I’m not!

  2. grace Maestas

    “a small space of discovery”….love that you found it, saw it for what it really is…
    just beauty Full….this “scene”

    1. deemallon Post author

      Thanks Grace. The rust. The shadows. The worn paint and crappy canal. They took the place of waiting.

  3. ravenandsparrow

    I am sorry that your relationship with your sister produces ugly moments. No wonder you are tired. I’m glad you found some calm on the back streets.

    1. Liz A

      Dana – And now Bruce Springsteen’s refrain “hiding on the back streets” will surely echo through my stitching today … thank you for that

  4. Michelle Skater

    You do have the knack of transmuting the emptiness of waiting into the something of noticing. As for family, well, although I sometimes long for such, I really have none. There’s a brother, sister in law and fully adult nephew but contact is more than minimal if such can be imagined. Perhaps due to difficult times in the way way past and gone, but for at least ten years, mostly silence with very occasional touch base. Perhaps I’m fortunate.

    1. deemallon Post author

      It’s hard to know what counts as fortunate with family. I do find myself alternately noticing what a vibrant community you have and worrying about you being alone.

  5. joanne

    I am glad I found you Dee. From Jude and Grace. The grave stones give me something to consider. Especially FRANK. My dad’s name and he would have loved the stone. If you don’t mind I will make a copy of the stone photo for my desktop?? It made me smile and think of Dad.

  6. saskia

    i hadn’t read the post but found the images intriguing nonetheless, said to self: what an interesting life dee leads, huh


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