Moving toward normal with a purple couch

Written last night:

Zing and I just came in from sitting on the balcony in the cool evening. It’s the first time we’ve done that — relaxed in the dark, hearing the night noises of the city. My world is stretching out. Not very long back I could hardly leave the hotel room. Then I began hopping around short distances to get coffee and pizza. Then I moved into the condo and felt confined by the mess of stuff yet to be put away. Now some of it is where it belongs and the kitchen is full of friendly appliances. My bank account and credit cards are shifting to the west coast. Zing is learning to pee on command. 

There’s more to be done: California driver’s license and auto registration! (Something in me believes I’ll never pass the test, forget the important papers, and be a failure. Got to get over that! It reminds me of the way some kids are terrified to take tests in school.)

But I am getting settled. Yesterday I took my photo reflected in the Turner Golden One office management window. Clark would approve! 

Today was for chores — a routine Saturday — Grocery, office and art supplies, pet supermarket (where I returned the pee carpet I bought for Zing to use on the balcony instead of morning walks. Turns out we prefer the walks.)

You know I’ve wanted a purple couch since I was a young adult — I had this romantic notion of guests and family snuggling in its pillows in the corner of a kitchen-living room, talking to me while I cooked.  It was a fantasy, not clear-cut. Not long ago I mentioned this to Clark. “You will have a purple couch!” he said to me firmly, not laughing at all. I was taken aback, since it was more dream than desire. “Oh, my!” I said, “You really do love me, don’t you?” I never dreamed he would think well of such a distinctive piece. I wasn’t even sure I wanted it in real life. “Of course I love you!” Clark said, and he hugged me, and I knew, yes, I would have a purple couch.

Unaware, of course, that he would die so soon, we decided to get the couch when we moved into the condo. But after I got here alone I hesitated to order it, wary of my unsettled state. I told Patrice and Mary I thought it might be a “crazy lady purple couch,” bought by an overwrought woman. I considered a gray couch with purple velvet pillows, and that made me nauseous. I really, really, want a purple velvet couch. My sisters, my style icons, stood by me. “Buy it!” they said. So today I ordered it, and wouldn’t you know, in the catalog the color is not called purple but eggplant... Aubergine. Not crazy at all. I can’t wait until mid-November, when it will be delivered! Kind of like a birthday-Christmas present from Clark, and a sign of his love. 

Love,

k