This afternoon, says the forecaster, there will be rain. It seems impossible to make plans for next week, let alone a whole year from now.īut then comes the weather report, bearing the gift of reliability. So much has been alarming and unpredictable during this time: the global Covid pandemic, the state of the American democracy, the failing health and then the death of my husband, the ever-more-tangible advance of climate change. My theory was, you looked out the window to see what the weather was and then, if something unexpected happened later in the day-rain, snow, sun-you dealt with it.īut in the past two years, I’ve come to find comfort in weather reports. Even if someone on the radio had made the announcement, it had simply passed me by. Often, as he made breakfast, he’d ask me if I’d heard the weather report. When my husband and I first married and lived in Brooklyn, New York, he would wake up first, turn on the radio, and get into the shower. I never used to listen to weather reports. Posted on AugCategories Uncategorized Leave a comment on My First Tattoo: What and Why The Comfort of a Weather Report My love of books and my wish that my own writing will continue to take wing after I am gone is now a permanent part of my body. “I think it’s all I’ve ever written and all I ever will write,” I said. I had asked myself the same question several times. At one point she asked, “I wonder what the story might be.” Soon I was paying close attention to the movements of the needle, trying to guess which parts of the image she was drawing. ![]() It wasn’t painful, just a little scratchy. I told her I was nervous, not about the possible pain but about the permanence of a tattoo. On August 9 I arrived at Phoebe’s small studio, Here’s to You Tattoo. I make most of my decisions intuitively, rather than logically, but this one continued to feel both very big and very mysterious. I also felt it was a way of marking my body with a new kind of beauty at this time in my life, at age 74. I was pretty sure it had something to do with reclaiming my body’s new direction in the world two years after Andy’s death. In preparation, I searched the internet for images of the right kind of book, the right kind of wings, and I sent them to Phoebe, so she could render a design. ![]() I contacted her tattoo artist, Phoebe Aceto, and made an appointment. I know a lot of people with tattoos, but I’d never seen any as beautiful as the ones my friend KiRa has. “A book with wings,” I said.Īnd then, a few months ago, I began to realize that I wanted to do it. I had never thought of getting a tattoo, but as soon as she posed the question, I knew. A few years ago a friend asked me, “If you were ever to get a tattoo, what would it be?”
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