Jacqui (jacqui) wrote,
Jacqui
jacqui

Bitter Sweet

I came into my office to give the rats some cherries and decided to stay and write an entry. Today was such a weirdly bittersweet day. I feel this deep bone sadness over the loss of my cat and yet I can carry on and laugh and smile and find happiness in things like feeding a champagne grape, (do you know how tiny they are)? to a little bug with a red stripe running down his or her back. It was so sweet the way this little creature kind of jumped with surprise at the taste of this grape and then lunged for it with all her buggy gusto. She held onto it like it was a beach ball with arms that were smaller than one of my eyelashes. It never fails to amaze me how the smallest things in nature bring me the greatest joy while others bring the deepest sadness.

I love our possum guests even though they often lunge at me and bite me before realizing that I am the person who feeds them. Once they get a good whiff of me they realize that I am their friend and they tentatively snuggle up against my fingers, they lick and smell me, and peer out at me with their big dark eyes. My favorite, the big possum boy, will climb up onto my arm and come out of the cage and climb up to my shoulder and sniff my ears and play with my hair. I like to cuddle him and kiss his big long face and his funny fuzzy head even though he doesn't really like it too much.

I think about how much this means to me and how I would have missed all of this if I had been too afraid to take them in, like most people I know. They are so incredibly cool, such amazing little beings, and I am so happy to have been able to nurse them back to health. Now I have to find the best way to let them go, and it's hard because I want to carry them around with me forever, or for as long as forever is in possum years, about three human years I think.

Like my son, he can be so wonderful, so great to be with, and then switch out on me and be the teenager he is, awkward and brusque. We had fun together picking up my bike, taking his bikes to be repaired, going to the market and then coming back and riding around the neighborhood together. I don't know if I'll ever get used to how much the warmth of his hand can brighten my mood and frighten me at the same time. This mother love is a powerful thing and after fourteen years I find that I'm still sometimes unused to it, unused to the journey as it unfolds.

Being terrified of abandonment, and like the dutiful good mother I am, (having memorized my Kahlil Gibran before Beau was even conceived), I know that I can't depend on him, or lean on him. That as much as I need him, this is not my place, I am here to be leaned on and to let go when the time comes. This is what makes this love so frightening to me, the impending loss, and the inevitability of the empty nest.

HowieF called me tonight and instead of retreating into my usual state of apprehension and panic when I infrequently speak with someone I know only from the world of the Internet, I was happy he called and enjoyed speaking with him as I sat on the floor and stirred some margarine into Beau's corn. Yes, I fed my son corn tonight, and fuck you if you don't like it, eat me if you disagree with me. Whoops, sorry, these moments may come and go for a while, like grief hiccups I tend to get bubbles of anger after being criticized, please bear with me, they're not meant for you and they will pass.

Scott came over tonight just as I was speaking with Howie. They said hello to each other and then we went upstairs and laid around on my bed for a while talking. I'm so aware of how uncomfortable and out of sorts Scott feels when he's here, but then again he'd be the first to admit that he's rarely comfortable anywhere but in his own home, and my house, well, let's just flat out say that any place with this many cats isn't comfortable for too many people except us.

We ordered Something's Gotta Give on digital cable and I so enjoyed it for the second time. I love the actors in this movie, although I wish they had cast someone other than Keanu Reeves for Diane Keaton's younger love interest, the heart surgeon. He's gorgeous and I honestly don't mean to pick on him. I think he's a sweet guy and good in some things, but he was miscast in this. On the other hand I love this movie so much that maybe I should just be grateful for Diane Keaton, Frances McDormand, Jack Nicholson and that amazing house on that amazing beach and just leave it at that.

After reading The Second Assistant I feel so turned off and burned out on this business that exists in every crevice of the city I live in, this art form that exists in every hopeful breath I take, that I'm amazed a film like this got made at all.

I was thinking tonight about the actors I admire the most, who I would most love to meet, and which actresses I would most like to have as friends, and every one of them were over forty. That made me smile a kind of happy sideways smile. I love and admire women who are my own age or older. A bittersweet thought, like this day that started so awfully, like this movie, like the best chocolate, like life.
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