(Trigger warning)
I keep hovering in the kitchen chopping vegetables for soup though my teeth hurt so much there is very I can eat these days other than soft things. Ripe pears. Bread soaked in broth. Yogurt. Nursery food. I’m humming Leonard Cohen songs he shivers in my head. My eyes are burning. There are angels in my hair. There might be sparks flying from my body.
I’m not afraid of the pain I will endure Friday or in the days following. I am afraid of vibrating in the dentist chair until my wings snap off and I shake apart upon landing. I am afraid of running out of the sterile office of panic fainting syncope. I am terrified of my own pathology swallowing me up. This is not regular dentist fear. This is not fear of needles or gauze or blood or pliers or drills.
The entire Okanogan Valley where my son’s orchard is is on fire. Even though it is not soup time I chop and stir because chopping and stirring rests my brain. I burned the ring finger of my left hand pulling a cookie sheet full of roasted vegetables out of my oven. I burned my tongue tasting them for salt. My son called me and told me not to turn on the oven. It’s still warm here at night. I chopped fennel and baby turnips and onions and celery and carrots and garlic. I hummed. I hummed way too much. I tossed in some stock and now my soup is bubbling along and yes I know no one puts turnips in soup but I put everything I can find in soup. The tomatoes will be added in an hour with the beans and some lemon juice and tiny bit of sugar and a perfect reggiano parmesan rind I've been saving for just this occasion. For that “the whole country is on fire” occasion. I put too many peppers in.
The story of my life is I PUT TOO MANY PEPPERS IN.
This morning I felt an earthquake in my legs and I want to make the telling of it clean without triggering anyone. The way childhood trauma that word molestation can echo in us our entire lives. No matter how many years of psychotherapy no matter how many saint bodies in our cupboards no matter how many jesuses no matter how much tegretol or lithium or benzos no matter what addiction no matter how many twelve step meetings. I amend I amend I amend. I am sorry. I will never be sorry. I’m so glad she’s dead.
The wind is high and fast and someone below me keeps firing a gun fast repeating shots. My blood is a candy striped merengue. Another goldfinch hit my window after circling my house like a nurse shark. I hunted for her body and there she was under the hummingbird feeder her feathers still as bright as Frida in La Casa Azul.
Friday at 8 AM. I can’t wait for it to be over. Why are you afraid of the dentist? The dentist wants to assuage my gut fear. It’s none of this I tell him gesturing at his outspread tools. It’s me. The grating of my soul’s secret highway. Pulling open and fingers inside.
I’m going to tell myself all memories are lies. To get through. Dentist is a dinosaur playing country music piped in just for me do you have any Mozart? No. I want to make him as comfortable as possible.
Let’s count down together.
Oh honey
I somehow missed this when it came out. It's utterly amazing.