She was still as well-water when she wanted to be, and just as deep, but with a scialytic smile that contained a full afternoon of sunshine. Oh, she could turn on every last light in the city when she was in the mood. I remember a champagne-fueled dinner, the pack of us hanging on her every word, her frolicsome “could you even believe…?” questions as she’d lean across the candlelight. She’d excused herself to the bathroom and I caught a glimpse of her laughing with the back-of-house staff, the dishwashers and the busboys enraptured by her. What had she been saying? I later wondered. I knew, even without the specific shape of her words, that it was her effortless intimacy, the funny asides she’d float into conversation, her humor always a sharp half-step ahead of its reception. Her eyes would crinkle at the corners once her companions caught up to her: the picture of a perfect archer, knowing where the arrow would plant while still in-flight. It was this, but also: the sprezzatura of the cigarette between her fingers; her puckish absconding in the first place; her silhouette caught in Hesperidian laughter.
Where did her sunshower go? Away with the weather, and too long. Her radiance suddenly eclipsed by a serious job, her life’s travails, a marriage I know nothing about but that has the cast of dark water, maybe even — is it untoward to write this? — the ponderous responsibilities of motherhood?
I want to help, even as I recognize I have no idea where to begin and so little margin with my own life’s demands, and even as I suspect my entreaties would be unwelcome, distant as we are. And what, after all, do I know of her survival stories? Still, I want to help, even as I grapple with a kind of grief over the loss of her sun-self, and then guilt at that grief (let people be, amor fati), and even, yes, as I understand that the same could be said of the orbital circumference between now-me and past-mes, in certain ways, and to certain people. Oh, It is never one thing.
But there are seasons yet —
The new leases of later life-stages. The perspective that comes with age. The sunblink moments: the occasional arch aside that returns her to her younger self. The way even a long winter thaws and sluices spring.
Post-Scripts.
+The above is a kind of yawning fiction. I wrote earlier this month that one of my goals for March is to engage in more unbound writing — i.e., drafting without any end game or purpose, purely for imaginative pleasure — and this is one of the crop yields.
+More fiction here.
+We are always raising future versions of ourselves.
Shopping Break.
+This linen caftan has captured my imagination. (If too minimalist, try the ones at Asha — swoon! This one is in my cart.)
+Just ordered this athletic top layer in the blue/white stripe!
+One of my favorite striped sweaters, now in butter yellow!
+STOP this is such a cute bag!
+Lake just released daywear, including this cute striped skirt set! Meanwhile, currently living in my kimono sets (now available in the cutest blue/white stripe) and LOVE the new sailing motif on the kids jammies for summer.
+Currently wearing these utility pants in white. They are so flattering on! They run a tad big, FYI. If between sizes, go down.
+Love this adorable shirt and shorts set from Marea’s new collection.
+For spring cleaning — love this product line. And this is the most luxe, gorgeous hand soap EVER. I was just thinking this might be my hostess gift for summer.
+These terrycloth totes for summer!
+A chic new arrival. Also love the silhouette of these ankle pants.
+As we head into spring soccer season: reminder that these pull-on cleats were one of my best mom discoveries last year. I actually just placed a big spring athletics order at Zappos, including those cleats for my son and also —
NIKE SHORTS (THIS, THIS) AND TEES (THIS, THIS) FOR HER
+Gingham half-zip for pickleball, tennis, golf, etc!
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