When I rounded the corner there it was on my doorstep: a box the size of a small refrigerator. Wow, I thought, my friend Tami said she was going to send us a box but this was pretty stunning. She lives near New Orleans and it is Mardi Gras time. The first thing I thought was, “That is an awful lot of beads.” Then another idea crept into my head, bending down, I rapped on the vast box and said, “Tami -- are you in there?!” No answer. Perhaps she was sleeping. It had been a long journey.
I decided not to open the box until Diva showed up. After all, if Tami did jump out, she’d be ever so disappointed that Diva wasn’t there screaming and falling unconscious with terror. You never get a second chance to make that all important first impression.
Yep, I had to wait for Diva before I opened it. I knew this was a box of joy -- and happiness is always better when shared. Diva called and asked if she could come over. “Dang yes,” I said, “but bring the camera, Kitten. Tami sent us a really big box.”
When Diva arrived she was stunned. I took the camera and gave her a knife to open the package. Slowly she rocked the box, then she looked at me as she whispered, “Maybe Tami is in there.”
“Cut carefully,” I said and began documenting the whole adventure with the camera. I now realize how boring it is doing anything without Diva. To watch the excitement in her face, to hear her comments -- I really come alive when we are together. I have thought about that a lot, the idea that I have been afraid to show my real emotions. I was taught that as a child: men don’t cry, be John Wayne, be impassive and tough it out. I have missed out on my own life by not allowing myself to feel.
I decided not to open the box until Diva showed up. After all, if Tami did jump out, she’d be ever so disappointed that Diva wasn’t there screaming and falling unconscious with terror. You never get a second chance to make that all important first impression.
Yep, I had to wait for Diva before I opened it. I knew this was a box of joy -- and happiness is always better when shared. Diva called and asked if she could come over. “Dang yes,” I said, “but bring the camera, Kitten. Tami sent us a really big box.”
When Diva arrived she was stunned. I took the camera and gave her a knife to open the package. Slowly she rocked the box, then she looked at me as she whispered, “Maybe Tami is in there.”
“Cut carefully,” I said and began documenting the whole adventure with the camera. I now realize how boring it is doing anything without Diva. To watch the excitement in her face, to hear her comments -- I really come alive when we are together. I have thought about that a lot, the idea that I have been afraid to show my real emotions. I was taught that as a child: men don’t cry, be John Wayne, be impassive and tough it out. I have missed out on my own life by not allowing myself to feel.
When I am with Diva, or I am creating, it’s all about the real emotion -- my emotion. I am crap as an artist but I am aces at being me. Here is the time when I can feel what I hadn’t allowed myself to. This is my chance to become real -- kind of like the -- the velveteen rabbit.
Out of the box Diva pulled bags as big as she was. She was exploding with joy as first a giant plush dog and then an enormous plush frog was flying around the apartment: jumping, dancing and giggling. We both started laughing and couldn’t stop.
Later, laying on the couch we four (Diva, dog, frog and me) all cuddled and looked at the photos. I thought I could use them as reference for our book, Stay. They capture the joy I see in Diva all the time.
“You are always smiling,” I said.
“I don’t smile that much,“ she admitted, “only when I’m with you.”
It was a grand box. Thank you, Tami.
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