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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
| BONDING WITH DOROTHY |
| 09.30.04 (3:01 am) [edit] |
|
I wasn't quite sure how it all tied together; housework, an open window, and Dorothy, but I knew somehow that they did, and it filled my soul with a comfortable, peaceful elation, like closing your eyes and turning your face to the sun. All day long I had felt the urge to click my heels together, close my eyes and repeat over and over "there's no place like home, there's no place like home." I woke up in my bed, with my sheets and old flowered linens. I measured coffee from my glass jar with the little clasp and drank it from my perfectly sized Chi Omega mug that I purchased at William and Mary, on my last trip to Virginia. I sauntered downstairs opening windows along the way. Sunlight filtered through the trees and made familiar shadows dance across the aging wood of the dining room table, where I sat and drank my coffee, listening to the sounds of Third Street. The scent of flowers and herbs from the perennial garden seemed to float in on the coattails of the sun's rays and a breeze drifted past me like an apparition; there's no place like home, there's no place like home. The rest of my day was consumed by throwing myself into domestic tasks that I had spent 17 years perfecting; things that once seemed dull and routine and mindless, but not today. Today they were my saving grace and I found a dream come true in a feminists nightmare. I had forgotten what it was like to set a goal and accomplish it and while laundry, dishes, and grocery shopping will not set the world on fire, it rekindled something inside of me and that is enough for today. I considered for a bit what had brought me to this point, I thought about Dorothy and her Ruby Slippers, and how we, like so many others, had walked unexpectedly into a storm and woke to find ourselves in unfamiliar territory. Little Dorothy Gale, from Kansas, who dreamed of far away places but armed only with pigtails, Toto, and a gingham dress, was ill prepared for the realities of such a journey. No guidebook or compass by which to navigate, just a yellow brick road and the will to put one foot in front of the other. Sometimes it takes a journey of a thousand steps to understand what you should have known from the start. Often we think that we understand but until we encounter a burning broomstick or a swarm of flying monkeys we really have no clue, no clue at all. Dorothy was lucky; with a single bump to the head she found out the meaning of life. She learned that she was brave and formidable, compassionate and determined. She learned that Oz, with all of its drama and glitter, had nothing on a little farmhouse pleasantly situated on the wrong side of the rainbow. How happy Dorothy must have been to wake up at home surrounded by the things and people that she loved. The sound of resolute mid-west voices, the muted pastels of her faded wall cloth, and the smell of Thursday night pot roast. I understand that to some this will sound folksy and a bit mundane; eyes may roll at my small town naivete and I will most certainly be pitied for finding contentment in a pile of neatly folded laundry. How can I fault them? They are still living in black and white. They have not yet been over the rainbow and back again. They have not had the benefit of a riveting bump to the head and day after day walk past an open window and fail to see the shadows dance. |
posted by: Dariana (reply)
post date: 09.30.04 (12:43 am)
Awesome post! Your blog is fantastic.
posted by: JAS (reply)
post date: 10.02.04 (8:15 am)
Send to an editor, needs to be published.......
posted by: Dariana (reply)
post date: 10.04.04 (3:48 pm)
Reply to: JAS
I couldn't agree with you more.
posted by: Ozgur Akan (reply)
post date: 01.24.07 (5:02 am)
I can not remember how I found this blog but it was in my bookmarks. I clicked the bookmark, remembered, it had been looong time since my list visit.
Your latest (this) post is awsome. The more I read the more I want to write. When I find time I will read all of your blog and try to be more familiar with you.
Thank you for providing something that needs to be considered to be liked. Thanks for not being to easy to swallow, thanks for providing something from me, us...
I guess, I will have some questions after reading your post. I wish you love, peace and an aim.
Grace, beauty, humor, strength.
Alison Haley Cloud
Nov. 16, 1987-March 1, 2005
