The way to love someone
is to lightly run your finger over that person's soul
until you find a crack,
and then gently pour your love into that crack.
~Keith Miller

Friday, November 14, 2014

life - lately


My french press "busted" very early one morning late in October.  Bummer. Too fine an early morning grind no doubt.  No coffee before leaving the house with light burns across my mid-drift.  Gosh I love coffee in the morning.  I would drink it all day long instead of water ... if ... .
Walking around the local antique/junk mall we spotted this coffee pot.  Other than being in pristine condition it is exactly like the one my dad used to make my momma coffee (every morning until suddenly never again back in 1980).  I am delighted with it.  It may be the silliest of pleasures - watching the water percolate up through the glass stem.  Very amusing, it's practically the only thing I enjoy seeing before that first cup.
Recently I have had the profound pleasure of reconnecting with a High School teacher whose kindnesses towards me changed my trajectory through life.  Her actions amounted to a "reboot". I laugh now to recall my youthful audacity.  I was a bit of a wild one ... back in the day, not now, never now, though I sometimes think I wear my ponytail a bit too tight ... hopefully age will wear well, will relax me a bit.  She describes a current pic of me as Gorgeous, pensive, reflective pic of you DeAnn. It's the same pic used here on TRUENORTH.  I'm always surprised by the words others use to describe me.  And ... in the same vein, isn't it interesting to notice the words one may select to describe oneself.  My daughter, Two, reminded me that some writer, maybe the EAT, PRAY, LOVE lady, suggested the exercise of selecting a "word" to describe "this time/place" in your life.  I tried to think of a single word several years ago.  It's not easy.  I couldn't think of one back then, but seeing pensive, I think that's it (for now).  It's not a word I employ often.  I searched my memory for the meaning, the precise meaning of it ... "All pensive and alone I see thee sit and weep. Thy tread upon the stone, where ... " what?  Something about ashes.  I can't remember.  It's funny to remember a snippet then the words just stop as though they fell off in to a well of forgetfulness.  Gosh I love our magnificent brains!  We remember the most random things when properly prompted (like seeing that coffee pot ... it recalls the stove, and the smell of my Daddy ... the stove, with the door to the oven open, open to radiate heat on to my brothers and I, wrapped in fluffy bath towels, awaiting pajamas with feet.  My nice smelling dad would zip us into the PJs while Momma (presumably) tidied up the bathroom, then he'd carry us, sometimes all three at a time, out to the station wagon. Once everyone was loaded up off we'd go to the Drive In Movies for a ... did they call them doubleheaders?  We'd see some Disney movie like Lady and the Tramp, followed by a Western (John Wayne seemed to be practically family). Yeah, all that from a clunky glass coffee pot.  Pensive ... let's look it up (and the other).
pen·sive
ˈpensive/
adjective
  1. engaged in, involving, or reflecting deep or serious thought.
    "a pensive mood"
    synonyms:thoughtfulreflectivecontemplativemusingmeditativeintrospective, ruminative, absorbed, preoccupied, deep/lost in thought, in a brown study;
    formalcogitative

    Lol, deep.  Not so deep.  More of a wader on the shoreline these days. Working up to splashing.


    There we go ... I "know" it because of Joseph Haydn (1732-1809) composer of The Spirit's Song. The author of the text seems to be Anne Hunter (1742-1821).  I remember now liking the idea of speaking eyes ... and parting sighs.

    (in a brown study?) (huh?)

2 comments:

gretchenjoanna.com said...

I think that's the kind of pot my grandma had, and it's funny how the smell of coffee in the mornings sometimes reminds me of her - never my parents who also drank coffee. I think it's because the climate here is more similar to Grandma's, and the coffee aroma has to come to me along with the proper temp and humidity...?

DeAnn said...

Sounds reasonable! It's fun to see what we remember, and what triggers the memory! As my mom progressed through liver cancer (Un known to any of us until the end) her memory declined dramatically. It was nice to see how much she enjoyed early childhood memories which returned. Our minds are amazing!