Friday Flux

NieNie has been back blogging for a little bit. If you don't know here, the summary is that she is a married Mormon woman with four beauties under the age of six; her name is Stephanie Nielson and she, along with her handsome husband Christian, was in a plane crash where she was burnt over 80% of her beautiful self. Now she is back in a new home, recovering, and has just returned home again from yet another surgery, this time on her armpit and hand. Her courage in the face of overwhelming pain, loss (of a life she expressed love and devotion for daily, of a face she recognizes) and grief is absolutely inspiring. She cries regularly, she says. (of course she does...) But damn her spirit is so fierce. She has taught me a few things about living. No matter what her pain or problems, she is damn determined to also be grateful, and to love, and express love, and yes, the tears must be cried, the pain felt and expressed, but then move, move toward love. I am in love with Stephanie Nielson, in the same way I fell in love with other women I've read of over my lifetime, women who are so amazing that it is thrilling, magical even, to read about their lives. Nie has a purity of heart that I cannot convey in this small space. Of course she is not perfect- I don't know what her flaws are, but I'm sure they exist :) but even if she had a BIG SERIOUS GROWN UP flaw, the things about her that I know are so overwhelmingly touching and amazing, it would only make her maybe a wee more accessible. As it is, someone sullied by life like I have been can only bask in the happy knowledge that people, and families like hers, do indeed exist. You see, it's not about what life has GIVEN her, it's about what she's DONE with it.

I love you like a fat kid loves cake, NieNie.

This one's for you, Nie:

hurt
*
during the afternoon
the pain relents- i notice our cat
hunting a fly, a beetle, a one legged bird.

she crouches patiently,
as if she will live forever.
she doesn't know she won't

so for her
pain is not a reminder
that death is the mission of the body.

my skin crawls eerily
these sharp toothed nerves gouging
into muscle, it feels like bone.

into the joints, sacks of cells
i am joined like an arthritic precurser.
inside the eddy of blood all things

clamor about, the membrane swells.
i spy the cat again, she limps distractedly
a fie in her paw, a hawking in her eye

she doesn't think of pain
as a signal for anything but patience.
taking care to clean around the wound,

rest burden on her other three.
she is more concerned with being a mother
and catching things to eat, than her foot.

i jump up and throw my arms out,
yell, hoot, start a dance from my aching feet.
fuck you,

i sing to this pain,
fuck you.

-maggie may ethridge

PS

A Japanese chef has craftily made these Obama sushi. Of course he did.