WITHOUT CONSENT

Before going to sleep last night I promised myself to be more aware of how I'd awaken today. Therefore, I was aware that the house was chilly but not deeply cold. It was very dark but for the small night light at the far end of The Red Shed. I listened to the silence until the refrigerator stirred and began humming it's morning song. Then I flung myself from the warm bed, put on a long fleece robe and a fleece jacket. I didn't make a fire and I endured. But somewhere in my spirit I was disappointed because I almost always awaken into dreams.

During my long life I have raised enough hair to fill a large mattress but it has been lost on the winds of three continents. Imagine that! Little bits of my DNA trodden into foreign fields, woven into nests of unknown birds, blown about like songs without wings. It continues to grow when I sleep, leap, drink, think... (Cedar is learning to rhyme words). It grows without my knowledge or consent and it is lost in the same way. I am convinced that hair loss leads to baldness. If I live long enough I will become a bald-headed lady beneath a funny-looking wig. I'll weave it myself. However, at that time I may begin boasting about my fine mustache and excellent beard.
I have also decided that I've betrayed my own body. Yes, this body that loves me. This body that has carried me to the mountains, to the sea, to the plains, to the rain forest. This body that yearns for strawberries and cheese. After so many years of abuse this body goes on loving me. (From an old journal).

I've been reading "The Kindness of Strangers" the life of Tennessee Williams.