there is too much. Too much going on. Too much to write so I dont write at all.
I want to write about oil and about my rejection letters and about Iona’s prom style graduation, and about our dinner party (i was going to post pictures and recipes) and our last weeks in Miami, and I want to write a letter to Obama urging him to get into a white clean up suit, get oily, clean a dying bird and weep, because thats what “the American People” want to see. Hell who wants him taking responsiblity? That sounds too much like taking the blame. No we want his tears while wearing a diving suit, holding a fisherman’s child – Reagan/Clinton style – only then will we feel he’s on top of the situation.

OK. So.

One week ago Iona had her graduation from middle school in the form of a lunch time dance. She went shopping with her two best friends, Lourdes and Josirus and called me. “Mommy, I found a dress, and its really cool, and I would never have picked it myself but Lourdes made me put it on, and its like chonga, like really hot, and I think you won’t like it, but it looks really good on me and they say i should get it, shall I take a picture of me, like wearing it, and send it to you?”

She called me! From the dressing room. She wanted me to see it, approve it. She wanted ME. Still at age thirteen, almost fourteen. I was touched. I said I trust your taste. If you love it then get it. I’m sure you look great.

 

 

it’s all about the back, its like all open, but its cool.

 

 

So at 8.30 on Friday morning she stood and waited, in the street outside our house, for her friend’s car to pick her up. She looked self-conscious, her knees and feet turned in, her head cocked at an angle, too cool to smile and wave at me. She looked heart breaking, a mix of five year old girl and sexy young woman. Tears rolled down my cheeks. It wasn’t the cliche that they grow up so fast. I was just so proud of her, how she’s making her way and figuring it out, so lovely, so together, so smart and such a good friend. I love you Iona.

More to follow…