Not that you’ve ever actually wondered, but…have you ever wondered what happens during those days and sometimes weeks between my posts here? Is everything just completely quiet or are there things happening that I’m not posting about?
Its a bit of a combination, I suppose. There are days when nothing whatsoever unusal occurs. And then there are days where a billion little things happen, but nothing big enough to warrant a blog–like the faces that pop out at me when I close my eyes at night–they just want to be acknowledged, thats all. I basically “Open my doors for business”, and let them come. They show themselves, I smile and nod and they go on their way, usually not to be seen again.
And then there are days when the same old usuals come into play. What I mean by this is that I have ‘regulars’ who I feel and sense on a regular basis. Such as the poor soul who died of smoke inhalation somewhere on the 5 FWY North going down the Grapevine–I have trouble breathing there every single time I drive it now, and my poor doggie, who is not a typical snuggly pup, will always move from her usual co-pilot’s seat in the front passenger side to curl up close beside my right thigh until we are well past that area. I dont think she’s a very contented spirit. She’s confused and doesn’t know why she’s there. This is when I wish I had a clearer vision or way to communicate. I cant help in these circumstances and I feel awful about it.
Or there is the Soul on Lomita right round the corner from my home. I pass that house every night on my way home from the barn and maybe 75% of the time feel it watching me drive past. That one knows I’m there, but I cant get a clue what its story is or even what gender. Its just there , in those bright windows.
And have I ever mentioend the Soul that is stuck in the parking lot at the Masonic Lodge? When I walk across that lot to the donut shop on the other side, my feet feel weighted with concrete. I always wonder exactly what happened to it. I mean, what would make your feet feel weighed down like that other than someone actually weighing you down in concrete? or maybe chaining rocks round your ankles? Eeek…But for all that, it is not a terribly upset Soul, mostly resigned and curious about me. Even helpful, truthfully, as it led me to what became my daughter’s first ballet class.
These and others are the events that populate my days in between my In Between posts. They are like the mailman in your neighborhood, or the old lady you see walk her dog every morning at 8 a.m., or the neighbor who, like clockwork, you watch picking up his paper from the sprinkler puddle each day, shaking it out diligently before giving up with a resigned sigh and heading back in to dry it as best he can and settle in with a cup of coffee. They are as real and comforting to me as those little ritualistic events are to you. And as unremarkable.
But without them, I would feel as though a part of me were lost and that the world had been turned on its head.