I’m stretched out on a lounge chair looking at my garden on this hot, humid afternoon. The sky is gray and milky white typical of the rainy season. It will probably rain this afternoon as it has every day this week.
Just because you fall off a bike once doesn’t mean you throw the bike away.
My fantasy bicycle ride that was Scorpion is over. But who knows? Just because you fall off a bike once doesn’t mean you throw the bike away. And I’m not talking romance. I found out something valuable about myself. I found that I like young people and I like talking to them. His enthusiasm about art filled me with possibilities.
Scorpion is in London now getting ready for a new show. I hope it’s successful. He deserves it. I will continue on with painting and dreaming about another show.
I’m under the whirring fan on the terraza. The heat and buzzing of bees are making me sleepy. I see a yellow butterfly flitting by – a symbol of change and joy. My change has been my recent painting and noticing the textures of the garden -the soft forgivingness of palms, the rigidity and prickliness of cactuses.
Max is writing his memoirs of famous people we met while working in the catering business – sometimes rich, many times weird. Max and I are partners in the adventure that is life and we support each other. We also know when to reel each other in. Max did that for me about Scorpion. He knew that to tame a wild horse you have to give it lots of room to run.
When I feel melancholy like this, my best tonic is to think of the many things I have to be grateful for: Max, Salsa my little dog, this lovely house and garden, my accomplishments in Presentation Is Everything, the new career in painting, the friends I never had time to cultivate when we were working.
Still I felt edgy. I needed Aunt Daisy’s hard-headed advice, so I called her and, in brief, told her about Scorpion and his show in London and my painting.
I said, “I feel like I fell off the saddle.”
“About your paintin’ show or about Scorpion?”
I watched the butterfly. “Both.”
“Sounds like Scorpion is more than just an artist you had a show with.”
“Yes ……… he was a fantasy bicycle ride.”
“It don’t matter if you fall off a bike or a horse, only one who can put you back on is yourself. Difference is when you fall off a saddle, you’re left lookin’ at the horse’s ass.”
I laughed. “No, he was definitely only a bicycle ride.”
“Don’t worry about your next paintin’ show. Keep fillin’ the barrel and you’ll have enough when you need it.”
There was a pause on the other side of the line and I could imagine her chewing on a hay straw. Then she said, “It’s o.k. settin’ a spell in the shade of a tree and sippin’ from your canteen, reflectin’ on the mountains in the distance and thinkin’ on what’s gone down. A cowgirl needs time to get over these kinds of things. You’re talkin’ to an expert in matters of the heart. And call me a fool at my age but I ain’t givin’ up.”
Neither will I.
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