December 25, 2008 - 7:39am — Seed
This is not a true and proper entry: I could say more, about the beauty of falling snow or the events of the day, or the smell of mushrooms. I could. But I feel just like...letting my heart ramble.
I was happy to see Walter again. Our relationship is/was sometimes very temptuous, but in its own way, it is/was also very sincerely caring. I like to think so, anyway. I never quite knew where I stood with Walter: some days he was angry at me, or jealous, and sometimes he was overbearingly affectionate. Overall, the emotional climate was both warm and stormy, like a tropic sea. I was never wholly clear on how I felt: a little like his sidekick, a little like it was my job to get him to behave just a little, a little like a close friend, and a little like a fawn playing beside a great statue. Perhaps it was because Walter is/was so forthrite and so dramatic that he often became/becomes difficult to understand: that is itself both frustrating and amusing at the same time, which is exactly right. Even if I was a little frustrated, for reasons more mine than his, I was -- on the whole -- happy to see him. and wistful-sad-nostalgic, too.
I was also happy to see him and 21 together. There's something about watching the two of them that's special: a feeling of intense connection, of something... You know the feeling you get when you see golden sunlight pouring through a rain so fine it's almost mist, or when a flight of white birds, thick as a cloud, takes flight in unison, or that of finding the first leaf of spring uncurling, that transluscent green, all soft and moist and vulnerable? and the world is holding its breath, because that moment right there is somehow magical and rare and...special. Complete without being total, pure without simplicity. That's the feeling I get watching those two, when Walter's feelings become crystal-clear and everything has that special feeling to it. I was very happy to see that.
I guess that's one of the reasons I like Walter: the relationships he leaves behind him are special, in a way that maybe other deer's are not. Not better, not always...but special.
It was, strange as it still leaves me feeling, a very good Christmas gift. The whole day felt strangely warm and safe and wistful, despite the cool chill to the air. I wrote a poem about mushrooms today: I hope the snow lingers, so I can write a poem about that tommorow.
