I was dead on the road, murdered I think. I was laying next to the wheels of a big tractor. The sky was all pastel, faint like the houses in my village. The sky was all luminescent and glowy. Though my life had ended violently I was peaceful. Earlier before the killer caught me I was with my children. We pulled angel cards, (a little ritual in our family).
Mine said birth. I could intuit that my life might end. Perhaps this was rebirth. I assured them I believed, in a mystical everlasting ever after.
I was peaceful as I lay dying. An army helicopter loomed overhead. (We hear them frequently at my home. I think it is because the BP pipeline runs near by to the Black Sea.)
So I awoke dead. Also weary. The teenager and some men friends stayed up till three in the morning playing video games on the big screen TV. The teen girl in the next room was getting texts all night long from the boy in the next village. Ding, Ding.
The lovely sun had left us. The day was wet, it foreshadowed winter. I got an immediate case of Seasonal Affective Disorder. One day without the sun, my bones wept in grief…bones do not die I think.
I was chilled all-day and longing for the sun.
School was school. It is a hat I wore for so many years I can automatic pilot with the teaching bit. Also my co-teacher has a three-month-old baby with the colic, who does not sleep and she must take a two-hour marsuka ride (marsukas make the subways of New York seem like Rolls Royce’s. So she gladly gives me the reins.
But I was cranky. Cranky that I had made a plan to have two little fellows meet at my house. One said he would not let Mata come, as he was an imbecile. So I gave a preaching on this.
Then I got invited to the ninth grade. I figured to do a little sermon there. They are not included in the TLG Program, only first through sixth grade. I worry that if they do not catch up, they will spend their lives all dull like the village cows.
I walked in the room, all those years giving me teacher swagger. Well to them I was like the ultimate audience of one. It was opportunity to show their peers who among them had most swaggers. The ringleader to the brouhaha was the young man who lives at my house. He has it. He has looks, brains,is tall and an athlete. He is the it man on campus. He owned the class. He cracked jokes, translated like he was the co-teacher. He was the current I had to swim against to get anyone else's attention.
And the little mind monkeys, those things one must make small or they will just take over, well I had a least ten of those.
My computer got a virus. Yes I was looking for stolen, pirated video’s (I would have paid but very few sites are available in this country). So I am haunted by some freak pop up window every six seconds and never did see a movie.
I have not had green food in a week. So for dinner I ate boiled cabbage and walnuts.
My system is on some sort of revolt against Georgia and nature refuses to call. I have ignored the roaches and the fleabites from the cat. But now it seems that the summer guest had head lice. The little girls are walking about in babushka with shaved heads underneath. I have lice. I just know it. Well at least I have such fear that I am certain I can fell them crawling. My phone has no minutes, and I am such a tender lass just now when it says “blocked” I am certain that I was cast to the land of the unloved.
Oh, and my little student who I adore came for his private lesson and my host mom shooed him away, saying something disparaging in Georgian about “His Momma”” (And of course in Georgia Momma is actually daddy so I am in some baffled state about what one does when one’s momma is trash talked.
And got in trouble at the house, trying to be proactive I wanted to make granola for myself (You know go with my Birkenstocks and all). Well near blew up the kitchen as host mom was out making wine (thus no dinner). But they way things are better she should make wine.
(But should not complain about my lack of food as my young lad, my swagger king had only broth and bread for dinner. So I am wondering if his behavior is diet related).
And that is the sum of my day, except of course this land always gives you your lemonade. Maybe I did die? When I want to bolt it enchants again. Late in the afternoon the sun came out and just put sheen on the land and all was a glimmer. I took a little walk about and did my head writing, which was really all my whining about the bad day, and as I was heading toward home one of the hard working babias (grandma’s) handed me off some roasted chestnuts.
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