Meg Sefton's Blog, page 57

moon

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Above the South Forth, Kerry, flickr

When my father called me Satan, my grandmother said “Come west. You were born under the snow moon, not meant for this.” Hiking from her cabin on the Conejos, my feet in the gravel, cliffs matching my ascent, the silence and sky held me.

split

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IMG_5958 by Gloria Williams, flickr

The onset of bipolar was that night in her dorm room, a split from all of the slow sad suicidal days before until that moment she heard a voice she thought was God. Next day: euphoria, religious elation, creativity. She graduated, went home, told her parents. “Take Benadryl” they advised.

decay

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Porcini by Nikita, flickr

Jacinda and her tiny people lived in the mushrooms of Muir Woods. It was very dry. Her house was decaying prematurely. When she came home from foraging she tried to slam the door to show her frustration but the dehydrated stalk meant the nice arched door no longer fit.

Heroine’s Journey: Sleeping Beauty

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“Sleeping Beauty” – vintage illustration, Sofi, flickr

I thought I would share this treat with you, this essay by Theodora Goss. Thank you for following Within a Forest Dark. — Meg

via Heroine’s Journey: Sleeping Beauty

crisp

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Bedroom Interior by Walter Gay, flickr

Derek, our decorator, and I were hauling a massive carved discounted headboard upstairs. We paused on the landing, laughing and breathing hard. I said: “My husband doesn’t like ornate furniture like this.” Crisply, like a boss, Derek said: “Oh chile, he wants to have sex with it.”

forgive

 

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can’s breathe anymore by Christos Tsoumplekas, flickr

The heart is hard and slow to forgive. How delicious to nurture a grudge, to simmer in bitterness. I told myself I prayed for the ability to forgive, but did I really? By praying and believing myself unheard and ill equipped, I put off letting go my toxic pleasure.

glare

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Boa, Jonathan Kriz, flickr

North Carolina summer night at Mama’s, with Jeff playing with the boa as it arcs and stretches toward the chandelier, the sweet scent of mountain laurel wafting through the window, Jeff and I doubled in fits of laughter, high. Mama turning on the light, glares. Party over.

pilgrim

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shirtless pilgrim

He did exactly what I wanted him to do: Show at the chemo ward with no shirt except cuffs, a pilgrim hat, big buckled shoes. Rent-a-friends come handy when holidays see you with no family and undergoing treatment. The nurses were a little flustered. It was perfect.

cat

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Ms. Mary had the beady stare of a peacock, while her daughter the secretive nature of a cat. They ran a B&B within walking distance of Miami Beach. They found Ms. Mary buried in the sand and her car stolen. They say it was the girl, tired of changing sheets.

lie

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Casanova by Thomas Hawk, flickr

It was Maya who broke the spell with her hard truths. “Of course he’ll lie to you with that silver tongue of his.” The brain of the middle aged single woman wants to believe so badly. I ghosted him. My Casanova seduced Maya.