The orange cat spends half my meeting crying for attention
The other half, biting at my neck and surprised when I push him down
I drink deeply from my Diet Coke
And hope no one asks me questions while my head still hurts
It’s not my best, but my best has been hard to reach this season
I take myself on a walk at lunch
It’s not what’s best for business and I don’t know if it’s even what’s best for me
A gray day with an early autumn chill that I resent
Another summer burned down in grief
But I walk and try not to feel guilty for the work I’m not doing, the messages unread
My dad installs a new ceiling fan in the afternoon while I read a long document
I read slowly, trying to think deeply, feeling smaller and smaller by the time I get to the end
The fan, though, is modern and bright with three blades that match the floors
One little project at a time and my home becomes new
Like flipping stones at the beach, after a while, the shore is changed
I pulled The Chariot card today from my tarot deck
2023 is the year of the Chariot and here it is today
My card has an illustration of a woman riding on top two motorcycles
Precarious, risky – it requires balance and guts and to me it says ‘just fucking go’
I take the card to my desk for encouragement but I don’t think it works
I put on a YouTube video but I never get past the ad
It’s one of those long ones that plays and plays and I let it
I work and listen and don’t listen and work until I am half wild and gritting my teeth
This is who I am right now:
I make my meetings on time but I’ll rip my fingernails until they bleed
By the time the sun has set I am full of ham and cheese galette
And tired, familiar conversation with my parents
– Refrigerators, bedframes, plays, and nonprofit galas that force life to move forward–
I get myself in bed and write a poem that in the end I do not share
So I write this instead
With Love,
Natalie
