My late husband always said that if he should die and I would get a lot of insurance money I would end up marrying Julio the Pool Boy. Well, I met him today. I humbly took my daughter and a friend to the Eldorado Springs pool because I had free passes for signing up for Eldorado Springs home water delivery at the Wednesday Farmer's Market downtown. I swam a little bit in the pristine water, and my daughter, enraptured by makeup and shaving her legs, swam with her friend who had an equally large amount of red lipstick on. Afterwards I sat out and read the yoga sutras, quietly contemplating space and time as I watched the humanity at the pool. Heavy men with beards and tattoos. Women with body shapes of all sizes that I analyzed and then watched my mind analyzing before I returned to meditation and just looking. We saw kids we knew from school and who knew me and my son and asked where he was. In Yellowstone with his compadres, I replied. I've been having a lot of mother/daughter time without my son, because you know as a single, widowed mother there ain't enough of you to go around, let alone spend one on one time.
My daughter and I went to my friend's cabin overnight and did some art. We got lavender wall paint for her room, although I am waiting for the hovering landlady to make up her mind about the paint swatch. So annoying. I own three houses and must put up with this!
But there he was, talking to me. Little old me with my heavy forehead wrinkles and wrinkle straight down the middle of my 42-year-old forehead. And I'm now hovering around 150 in weight from a strange ravenous appetite that has hit lately. I thought he was Indian or Tibetan at first from his accent, but later he said he was from Mexico City. He was young; in his twenties. He was going to school studying CAD and was a cabinet maker. He came back again and again to make small talk with me in my seat in the shade. We spoke in Spanish for a while. I knew what he was getting at. Here is Julio, only his name was Edgar or Oscar as somebody called him. Who knows. He said he's here all the time. Is this something out of The Graduate? He said my eyes and smile were lovely and asked what I was reading about. I thought, really, he's too late. All the funds are gone. All I have is myself to make money, and things are actually looking up since I just got booked at the Omega Institute. But not wanting to get messy with intimate relationships, and with my daughter and her friend nearby I chose to shake his hand and say nice to meet you.
Was Frank right? Did he know me so well? How trusting and silly I am? To predict, or even , self fulfill, in my wreck of a marriage with Justin and all his real estate shennanigans! He was going to make up trust funds for the kids, because he swore that I would marry Julio the Pool Boy, he's get me mixed up in some house, and then the kids would get nothing. So his words came true. Only in a little bit different drama. Yet the Sutras teach me such peace. It's such a drama. I can see clearer and clearer each day the reality of the mind. I know deeper and see myself as true reality. There is a great peace in all this drama. Failure is the price of success. I know all will work out, and I swear by my morning daily yoga and meditation practice. This makes all this coming and going such a surprise on the surface of the water from which the depths I emerge every morning to take a breath, and then bow back down to the deeps by night fall. And then it all ends up so lovely as words on a page.
My daughter and I went to my friend's cabin overnight and did some art. We got lavender wall paint for her room, although I am waiting for the hovering landlady to make up her mind about the paint swatch. So annoying. I own three houses and must put up with this!
But there he was, talking to me. Little old me with my heavy forehead wrinkles and wrinkle straight down the middle of my 42-year-old forehead. And I'm now hovering around 150 in weight from a strange ravenous appetite that has hit lately. I thought he was Indian or Tibetan at first from his accent, but later he said he was from Mexico City. He was young; in his twenties. He was going to school studying CAD and was a cabinet maker. He came back again and again to make small talk with me in my seat in the shade. We spoke in Spanish for a while. I knew what he was getting at. Here is Julio, only his name was Edgar or Oscar as somebody called him. Who knows. He said he's here all the time. Is this something out of The Graduate? He said my eyes and smile were lovely and asked what I was reading about. I thought, really, he's too late. All the funds are gone. All I have is myself to make money, and things are actually looking up since I just got booked at the Omega Institute. But not wanting to get messy with intimate relationships, and with my daughter and her friend nearby I chose to shake his hand and say nice to meet you.
Was Frank right? Did he know me so well? How trusting and silly I am? To predict, or even , self fulfill, in my wreck of a marriage with Justin and all his real estate shennanigans! He was going to make up trust funds for the kids, because he swore that I would marry Julio the Pool Boy, he's get me mixed up in some house, and then the kids would get nothing. So his words came true. Only in a little bit different drama. Yet the Sutras teach me such peace. It's such a drama. I can see clearer and clearer each day the reality of the mind. I know deeper and see myself as true reality. There is a great peace in all this drama. Failure is the price of success. I know all will work out, and I swear by my morning daily yoga and meditation practice. This makes all this coming and going such a surprise on the surface of the water from which the depths I emerge every morning to take a breath, and then bow back down to the deeps by night fall. And then it all ends up so lovely as words on a page.
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