My mom had a bonfire last night for the Spring Equinox. She burned old tax documents from as far back as 1976, the headboard of her marriage bed (the one we were all conceived in) and naked paintings of my dad (and some of her) that've been on her bedroom walls since before I was born. She has always hated those paintings, but she tried to say to the people who came to the party that she was burning them because she didn't want us to have to decide whether to keep a naked picture of our father.
Bull shit. We all grew up with those. They're not embarrassing. My brother had to convince her not to throw the one painting of her naked and pregnant with him on the bonfire because he wanted it. My mother's been trying to live this bohemian lifestyle for over thirty years when really she's a good little Catholic girl at heart and nowhere near as openminded as she always tries to convince everyone she is.
The bonfire was over twenty feet tall. There were chairs in all the nooks and crannies and my brother built a whole framework for it.
She's got dumpsters out in the front yard and has cleaned out my dad's studio and the room adjoining the kitchen and most of the bookshelves in the house. She got rid of a lot of the art books. I know people grieve differently. I know the house can't stay exactly the same. All of this feels like overkill though.
1:09 p.m. - 2007-03-22
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