As usual, I was determined to fight my way through it and be productive. I stood in the laundry room, Tide detergent in one hand, coffee mug in the other, staring at the washing machine. I just couldn't do it, so I put the Tide down and backed away slowly. I brewed a cup of earl grey and retreated to my bedroom. With guilt riding my shoulder, I fussed with the bed clothes and pillows 'til I had a suitable nest. Kindle in hand, I flicked the guilt-bird off my shoulder and cuddled up with Give Me.
From the moment I opened the book, I was exactly where I most love to be: in a magic-filled world of witches - wyrding women, in this case - and mythos. Even when the ancient, wind-swept beach cliff turned into sunny California, 21st century, I willingly, hopefully followed. I trailed after Lilith, scared for her, angry for her, sad for her. Lourdes and Elyse lured me into their world of woes, while Bausiney and Marion brought modern-day Dumnos to life. The drippy, grey world outside my window surfaced just long enough for me to meet my kids at the bus stop, and I vaguely remember preparing dinner for my family. Meatloaf, I think...
Then, I was back, immersed in tragic decisions and lost love, wondering at how well-meaning intentions often lead us astray. Finally, relieved when. . .well, you'll have to read the book, yourself. Well past bedtime, I was still book-dazed as I brushed my teeth, awash in that familiar fog of fragmented feelings from another world - sadness, relief, anger, regret, hope. And, dare I say, even a little left over lust? That night, I dreamed.
I dreamed I was with my Nan Baer, the where and what fors have disappeared, but I remember sitting with her, holding her hand and telling her how much I love her. The specific words are mostly gone, but I do remember saying, "I wish we could go somewhere peaceful and just talk over tea like we used to." I woke up crying in the dark, feeling adrift, as if I could have been anywhere, anytime. In my mind's eye I was standing under the protective cover of Igdrasil (read the book), watching the bank of clouds roil across the western sea towards me. And in that ethereal moment, I truly believed I had just been with my grandmother.
If you doubt the powerful magic of stories, my heart is heavy for you.