[his] mother's Buddha

"In fáma the subject is often massively projected upon
and adulated at the same time."
- Clarissa Pinkola Estés

yesterday i spent the morning working on a term paper, and in the course of my research i (re)stumbled upon the above quote. its theoretical efficacy is substantial, but as fate would have it, i had an opportunity to examine its praxis later that night:

my yin and i left our apartment at noon and headed west. her best friend lives in a community not unlike Agrestic, and we arrived to find a long table and two dozen place settings, complete with a four-top kids table in the corner. it reminded me of my own childhood, when the various sisters and husbands and cousins and children would gather at my grandmother's house for gigantic meals and subdued squabbling. we ate innumerable hams and turkeys, topped off by a truly frightening, possibly gelatin desert known only as "green stuff."

(digression)

for my part, i would tear yeast rolls into tiny pieces and drench them in homemade gravy until they congealed into a sumptuous half-starch/half-grease mixture. the consistency was somewhere between a thick stew and plaster of Paris, and the entire family was always amazed by my capacity for bread. in subsequent years this capacity has diminished somewhat, although my affection still remains. but this is beside the point.

the point is that we left my yin's best friend's house before the feasting began and headed back to the ocean. after a disappointing Thanksgiving meal (and a sublime, rehabilitating encounter with the yin-in-law's pumpkin loaf), we found ourselves in a penthouse apartment overlooking the ocean, two towns south and eight stories up:

[change tense]

it is a beautiful home, full of people, full of chatzkis, full of interrupted conversations and half-introductions. it is a mad scene that i might enjoy drunken or stoned, but i abscond to the balcony and look out at the surf. it's high tide and the lady of the house tells me that on a clear day you can see the chop where the Atlantic kisses the Gulf of Mexico. it is bizarre only in its utter lack of bizarreness, and i eat chocolate ice cream mixed with leftover cheesecake.

(explanation)

there is a (belated) birthday party in progress, and someone hands me some sort of festive cardboard headgear. i can't tell if it is a princess crown or bunny ears, but being an intrepid sort, i decide to put it on anyway. in the worst case scenario, i'll look infantile, but on the off-chance that it's actually bunny ears, someone might feed me carrots, which i find quite delicious.

a giant cake in sits in the living room, a small piñata hangs in the foyer, and the birthday girl's older sister pulls its strings until candy rains down onto the floor. i tell the father of the child that piñata technology has changed since i was a her age. he smiles and then his daughter makes the rounds, handing each of us a Hershey's Kiss. i get a white chocolate and thank her. the child's name is the same as my yin's best friend's daughter, and this makes it easy to remember.

[resume tense]

the drive back was filled with conversation, and a pervasive intoxication filled the vehicle, affecting even the sober occupants in the back seat. i wondered about la fáma and the candy wrapper in my pocket. i wondered about loneliness, anonymity, and freedom...

(begin poesy)

i wondered about
a green glass Buddha
that sparkled on a Thursday
night in November.