These are called 'taro' plants or in lay terms 'elephant ears'. And they are truly reflective of a sisterhood and they have traveled - so be the title , "The Sisterhood of The Traveling Plants". My dear friend is going back home on the first of February, all the way down under to Australia. We met about 8 years ago when she stepped in to my office and became my intern. Our loving and strong friendship developed from there. We were/are bonded in so many ways, as woman, Mom's, and within our calling to work in an environment that served the needy and most vulnerable. We are forever friends, regardless of distance. I will miss her though, a lot.
These two plants were actually 'born' in our in-patient department. They lived proudly in her office and then traveled to her home once she moved on to, shall we say, better and greener pastures. And now these beautiful plants have traveled here to live in our sunny front window. They are truly the Sisterhood of The Traveling Plants.
And now on to another point of interest. I have begun working on my book again. It is time. I may not be as visible on blogger for a while because my efforts and energy will be directed into my book writing. I wont be far, I will be right here but just not as active with commenting and posting. So please don't experience my less than normal chatter as a sign of lack of interest or whatever - I am just otherwise involved in my book writing. I want to post a paragraph or two below and get your thoughts, k? I value all of your opinions so let me know if my style peeks your interest to read more, thanks SO much.
The therapist’s office was in an old house and her space was on the third floor. The stairway was narrow and winding with broken side rails and a thick dark wood banisters. It smelled like cat litter and old heat. The door was ajar and I entered in to what was intended to be a friendly waiting room. It had pictures of women in big hats, candles in multi colored jars burning dimly, incense simmering in brass boxes that smelled like dirty socks to me, dried flowers in old vases that were dull in color and had cracks and chips. The floors were old dull wood with fringed runners and small light brown grass area rugs placed at varying angles trying desperately to cover the stains and scuffs. There was an assortment of chairs all thread barren with stained pillows and magazines on their seats left behind by I am sure, a previous client that ran out screaming. The therapist’s office had, much to my shock, a massage table right in the middle of the room surrounded by a table with oils and towels and scented creams. She appeared, what seemed like, out of nowhere. Hi, I’m “Meadow lark”, “what, who”, I asked with my head cocked, “Meadow Lark, I changed my name because I wanted a name that was one with nature”. “Oh, it’s nice , hi, I’m Anne”. My named sounded so boring in comparison. Meadow Lark was really big, with short spiked brown hair, wearing khaki dockers, brown deck shoes with no socks, a beige crew shirt and she had huge glasses on top of her head. Her skin was milky and her eyes were way too deep in to her head so their green color was misty. The windows in her room were huge and the sun was blinding as it filtered in over the massage table, white wicker chairs and brown tables with magazines about nature, healing, self-help and how to grow organic vegetables. Dara entered moments later having been in the bathroom behind the waiting room. Meadow Lark said, “Dara asked you here today because she has something to tell you, don’t you Dara?” Dara slumped in to a chair and then began rocking as she held her stomach and moaned. I was trying to absorb this ridiculous scene and trying to imagine what had Dara all twisted and infantile. Meadow Lark’s voice was nauseating to me by now as was her milky skin and misty eyes. “Do you want me to tell her Dara” I am darting between milky Meadow Lark and moaning rocking Dara and thinking what the fuck, I should just get up and leave. Dara nods to Meadow Lark still moaning and rocking. Meadow Lark comes off her chair just a bit, so one leg is half off the chair and she turns to face me, looks right at me with her sunken eyes and stupid huge glasses and milky skin. I become acutely aware of music playing. The kind of music you hear that is intended to be spiritual but usually sounds like wild animals being executed in the jungle and the owner of such music says, “don’t you love this?” and you are saying, “oh yes, amazing” when all the time you are thinking, “this shit is scary”. And so there I am with the musical sounds of wild animals being executed, looking at someone named Meadow Lark, Dara to my side rocking and moaning............
so, what do you all think?
Stay close and so will I.
