I think it pisses god off if you walk by the color purple and don’t notice.
Alice Walker, The Color Purple.
I was recently accused of believing in magic.
I also notice the color purple.
To me this is one and the same.
All you have to do is see a field full of cosmos and realize that is magic.
But not the way he said it. Which came out sounding something like by the left hand of the crow something, something… I was giggling as quietly as possible as to not interrupt the rant. There were poignant points in there, just not that one, not exactly.
Thou shalt not suffer a witch to explain herself. Okay baby. So mote it be.
The morning glories on my porch are a miracle. I watch them grow, inches a day twining in and around the bamboo arches I gave them to climb. Murmurations of starlings, the way the ocean moves, a hovering hummingbird, deer on the road at dusk and orgasms that leave me shaking. All the small wonders of the world.
Those things are magic.
I believe in god as a concept. There is something bigger than us and I believe it can be tapped into from time to time.
I suppose that is a kind of magic.
Words are literal magic, what I write, speak and believe, I become.
I write about finding pretty surfers on the beach. Life is imitating art, or art is becoming life. Not sure.
With all this in mind I said, at some point last week, I think it was Monday, ‘give me what I want or something better.’
I want a summer fling. I miss getting laid regularly, having something to look forward to, a reason to unplug, dress up and get out of the house. Talking, touching, exploring … sigh.
I had someone in mind and a back-up plan. Both infamous for bolting.
But the devil you know, you know?
I know my place with them.
I didn’t say it was a good plan and as such, I left myself that open ending. Something better.
It was 102.4 F Monday. I was sweating too hard to work/move beyond writing Proverbial Dangling Carrots. A wishing post.
I was trying to work on the book, but my muse was suffering heat stroke I presume. My Sunshine said “beach?” and I didn’t even pretend to fight it. Threw on my suit, grabbed a towel and ran out the door. I am a water baby and I had a small uranium rod radiating sickly heat through my core.
Walked a half mile, put our blanket down in a quiet spot. Wandered in the water, found it frigid, got wet anyways.
And lo, and angel of the lord came unto them and said ‘look right ladies’.
And yea there were 2 beautiful boys walking towards them and they smiled and it was good.
There were drinks and conversation. The one I thought was cute was napping and thereby extending the time I could pontificate about his cuteness. I find that sometimes you can look glorious on the outside but once you speak, the hotness fades fast. Not so in this case.
He opened his mouth eventually, flashed a brilliant, whiter-than-white smile and spoke in the softest/thickest English accent. Used big words too. Easy to engage with. I immediately looked up at the heavens and uttered a silent, yet enthusiastic, thank you.
This is important. I religiously thank god, or my version of it, every time I hit a green light, have a good bite of food, any of those little things.
And abra-fucking-cadabra, I am happy.
I don’t need big cosmic events. But I get them, for the simple fact that I am grateful for everything, always.
I don’t think god really gets miffed if you fail to notice a universe in a blade of grass or the glory of a sunset.
But when the universe shows you rainbows and unicorns? You best be fucking paying attention. And carpe the fuck out of that good god damn. Lest later, you find yourself starving. ‘Waste not want not’ applies to opportunities as well.
That is what this is, a freebie. Further proof of a godlike thing. Ask and ye shall receive.
So, me and my Sunshine went to their beach house for a wonderfully adulty night.
Good food, good conversation and a goodnight kiss that woke up some dormant butterflies.
A summer fling without strings. When I try to control things my fingers just get tangled.
He leaves in the fall. Wants to see me a few times a week. We have exactly enough in common and a fairly compatible schedule.
20something, young, articulate and not prone to bolting. Messages exactly enough. Tells good stories, really good stories.
So far this one is a pleasant surprise.
Mind you, I have said these things before. “This feels so good” (happy dance).
And then they pull the ultimate magic trick and disappear.
So I just enjoy him/this in the meantime.
All I wanted was something that feels good, and he does.
I’m not sure yet, but he might be a unicorn. I mean he is a hot ginger so he is already halfway there.
Maybe I find these rare articulate ones because I myself am rare.
I don’t speak coy, games annoy me, I abhor being vexing or vexed.
I’m an eloquent, attractive older woman who truly is not complicated. Eat, fuck, talk and I’ll go home.
I think it’s also tied to the fact that I am eternally grateful. I receive the loveliest gifts and write thank you notes.
And the gifts keep coming, as do I.
It’s not complicated.
There is a difference between being temporary and being disposable. I’m not disposable, I much prefer sex friends, casual, without labels.
I have shit to do and playing housewifey long term isn’t on the list anymore.
Although the cooking part is fun. And I don’t mind doing the dishes. Making and unmaking the bed are fun too.