About Me
Tigerlily is a terrallectual.
gender: SG
age: 35 (Nov 01, 1972)
occupation: collector of shiny things and broken wing mender
heroes: my mom and dad
most humbling moment: whenever my small minded disappreciation of life smacks me in the face
crush: myself
sign: scorpio sun, virgo moon, sag rising
stats: 40 acres and a mule
i am 4 years old and you are 14. it is june and the nights of our new northern california home are warm and lovely.
i follow you outside to where you have set up the chaise lounge chairs. one for you and one for me. i am amazed at the brown flannel sleeping bags that lay before us in anticipation. it is my first introduction to the concept, and i marvel at the pictures inside the sack, of hunting dogs and ducks flying away. you tuck me in and then get in your own. our mother interrupts the moment to coat us in "OFF" mosquito repellent, and despite my protestations that it smells toxic, she thoroughly covers each arm and my face. i am astounded at all the things adults know...about how to keep away mosquitos, sleeping bags, the multiple uses of lawn chairs.
mom turns all the lights out in the house and you lay beside me and tell me that now we get to stargaze. i ask you how to do it, and you tell me to just look up at the sky, that maybe i'll see a shooting star. you teach me the poem for wishes and show me the big dipper. i am soon asleep.
i wake in the middle of the night, disoriented, but quickly soothed by the sound of your snoring. it is so comforting, and the feeling is familiar. a combination of joy and gratitude, and a sense of being very, very lucky.
i am 35 years old and you are 45. it is june in colorado where you now live, and the sky outside is stormy and there is thunder in the distance. you are unconscious and an oxygen machine hums next to you. i am laying beside your bed on a couch, taking in your jaundiced skin, your bloated stomach, your parched lips.
soon you are snoring, and i am completely transported back to our childhood. i have not heard this sound in 28 years, but i instantly realize that it is a sound i constantly ache to hear. the loneliness that rides on my back is brushed away, the tenorous sound of your breathing stitching back together the wide wounds, the sorrow that took the place of your presence when you left home.
the next day...
i follow you outside to where you have set up the chaise lounge chairs. one for you and one for me. i am amazed at the brown flannel sleeping bags that lay before us in anticipation. it is my first introduction to the concept, and i marvel at the pictures inside the sack, of hunting dogs and ducks flying away. you tuck me in and then get in your own. our mother interrupts the moment to coat us in "OFF" mosquito repellent, and despite my protestations that it smells toxic, she thoroughly covers each arm and my face. i am astounded at all the things adults know...about how to keep away mosquitos, sleeping bags, the multiple uses of lawn chairs.
mom turns all the lights out in the house and you lay beside me and tell me that now we get to stargaze. i ask you how to do it, and you tell me to just look up at the sky, that maybe i'll see a shooting star. you teach me the poem for wishes and show me the big dipper. i am soon asleep.
i wake in the middle of the night, disoriented, but quickly soothed by the sound of your snoring. it is so comforting, and the feeling is familiar. a combination of joy and gratitude, and a sense of being very, very lucky.
i am 35 years old and you are 45. it is june in colorado where you now live, and the sky outside is stormy and there is thunder in the distance. you are unconscious and an oxygen machine hums next to you. i am laying beside your bed on a couch, taking in your jaundiced skin, your bloated stomach, your parched lips.
soon you are snoring, and i am completely transported back to our childhood. i have not heard this sound in 28 years, but i instantly realize that it is a sound i constantly ache to hear. the loneliness that rides on my back is brushed away, the tenorous sound of your breathing stitching back together the wide wounds, the sorrow that took the place of your presence when you left home.
the next day...
- TYPE WHERE COMMENT WHEN?
- GROUP My new tattoo My new tattoo 7/21/08
- GROUP My new tattoo My new tattoo 7/21/08
- GROUP My new tattoo My new tattoo 7/20/08
- ALBUM Clio: Tiki Gods oh good! i'm so glad this set went up!! it is simple... 7/19/08
- ALBUM Country Girl this has the potential to be such a good set. the colors... 7/14/08
- GROUP how lord of the rings... it's true! (video) 7/13/08
- GROUP My new tattoo My new tattoo 7/13/08






































