24 - can you hear me?

CHARM: She works the late shift at the crisis center. She is a good counselor because she experiences her feelings completely. She has a way of offering solace that is subtle and light: she does not judge other people’s craziness…. [She] loves the sexual dance and the shimmering, shivering heat of the erotic intensity, but when she says goodbye, she takes all of herself with her.

      —J. Ruth Gendler, The Book of Qualities

~~~

On the road, December 21st: The journey from Southern California to Northern California oh so stirring. The old California highways reveal much of what’s often hidden from view in a region or state; not unlike the soulful and dramatic journeys we take inward, plumbing the depths, remembering incidents, feelings, thoughts, places we’ve been, people we’ve known and loved. All-of-a-piece.

An old friend egged me on, said he couldn’t believe that in over 30 years, in all my trips up and down the Pacific Coast, the old El Camino Real, that I had never stopped in at Nepenthe. I promised I’d make this Big Sur way station a focal point.

I did not drive over 60 miles an hour, simply andante—mind and spirit. Final destination: the Capitol City, X Eve and X Day with the blood kin, easing in and relaxing with the clan, and all along the way, missing HER.

Guadalupe, Far Western Tavern: … a bottle of Rancho Sisquoc Cabernet Sauvignon and dining in the old way: relish trays (green onions, black olives, dill pickles, pepperoncinis, radishes…), saltines and real butter, shrimp cocktail, and pinquito beans, homemade salsa, baked potato, and their "Bulls Eye Steak," finest rib eye anywhere.

Pismo Beach, Kon Tiki: … on the balcony at midnight, the lights of the pier reflected in the undulating darkness, soothing sounds of the sea.

Big Sur, Nepenthe: … artisan bread, veggie chicken soup with basil and dumplings, and three Nepenthe coffees with Metaxa 5-Star Brandy, whipped cream and sprinkles of nutmeg. I lingered and made the moment memorable, reading Camille’s Juliette.

I had commandeered a spot at the end of the long outdoor table with a full southwestern view. I took my time with her sweet and composed elegy, the first of many she wrote as she was leaving Louisiana for California. This beguiling nurse-poet, so thoughtful and sensitive, in some crazy way, in the midst of her profound loss, imagining a reunion and sending out a call to her father Everett. Like Alysse, in One Perfect Day, “If you throw your voice into an empty space, it echoes to the ones you love,” it’s as if she was reaching out, wanting him to hear her.

I left Nepenthe warmed by the magnificent and exhilarating vistas, charmed by the love Camille had for her mother Juliette, the animating and mysterious want of finding or happening upon her father. I got further down the road and pulled over at the next “vista” turnout, not quite as high up as the road leading to Big Sur, and I was hoping no one would be there, but there were two cars; a young couple, and three teenagers, two boys and a girl.

I wandered down to the very end, as far away from them as I could get and I just went for it. You do these things when you realize there’s no reason not to, this my mantra for 2011, “Why the hell not?... and I think I scared the shit out of them, but there was a sweet giggle, the girl, with the boys, she had it, the charm, I saw her looking at me after, and I got to the edge of the cliff, arms spread out, and as loud as I could scream it, I let loose: CAMILLE!... CAN YOU HEAR ME?... I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU!

~~~

JULIETTE

When last I looked into your eyes, gleams of light, remaining,
still and calm, so pure, rich and giving
I did not look away, knowing
it would not be long, a loss,
a severance heartbreaking.

Sitting at your side, holding your hand, remembering
as you slept, before the end, fitfully withering
but spirit strong, sweetness derived from suffering,
the pain in life faced fearlessly,
your love inspiring.

And I close my eyes, I can see you, approaching
in gentle stride, with warming smile, inducing
excitement, joy, in this daughter of yours now mourning
what passed abruptly, the time between mother
and child, disappearing.

~~~

My father absent, where are you and what are you doing
so long away, vanishing, are you too, crying
as I am, without knowing, wandering,
asking why?

I miss you, want to hold you, feel you hugging
me, hearing your music, your words and rhyming
enchantments, she loved you always, never-ending,
though estranged.

A minstrel you were, to me, to her, singing
sensual songs, unloosed and aloof, infidel romancing
those who'd listen, charmed by the wooing,
gleefully waylaid.

~~~

Mom, I am lost, but will not always be, knowing
and confident, you showed the way, teaching
me.

Disease advancing, your grace and strength, illustrating
your emboldened will, your fierce and loving
soul.

Some say there’s life in death, a cruel paradox piercing,
time given, taken away; heartbroken, I am remembering
you.