so today, i bought a hanging pot of mexican heather at walmart. i had decided to go to walmart almost the moment i left my grandmother's house this afternoon. i had walked around her garden back yard, smelled the autumn air mingled with moist soil, fallen leaves. i have no such beauty here - anywhere actually. my grandmother has hestia blood...her house is always so neat and orderly and peaceful...a sanctuary. especially the back yard. my mom acquired that homemaker talent, with less of the compulsive cleanliness. i haven't a touch of it, and i'm lazy as hell.
right now, i think i need it.
so i bought a plant. cute purple blossoms. i don't expect it to last the month.
i'm acting on a lot of my needs and urges lately. i don't know what gives me the right. lately i've had an uncharacteristic yearning to grow something, though certainly not a baby. i think the urge is to keep something alive to compensate for my gramma's dissolving health. i can't keep her alive, but i can keep something alive. i guess this is better than my previous attempts at control or compensation. better to kill a plant than starve myself, i suppose.
my world is chaos. pure. i recognize the panic-stricken frenzy of "The Second Coming" - "things fall apart / the center cannot hold / mere chaos is loosed upon the land." and i am in the center of that widening gyre, not peacefully observing, but catatonic. empty. purposeless.
hopeless.
"gaze no more in the bitter glass..."
so...mexican heather.
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