Close To My Heart

Well, my plan was to enjoy this long week off.  And I did. I relaxed with the amazing Miss Mox, my sweetheart.   We did a lot of fun stuff: saw a couple of movies, walked in the park, went to an old house (Adena,) grilled out.  Maybe not the kind of things that thrill everyone else, but stuff that we like.  And doing anything with her is fun.  (I'm not exaggerating.  She is smart, and a smartass, and- once she's had her coffee- makes anything enjoyable.)

I also intended to write a lot, read a lot, do a lot around the house.  I did read a bit, and do some around here.   I puttered about the house, and ran some errands I had to like renewing my driver's license (my new pic looks like a mugshot.)  Writing... not so much.  I took notes.  I pondered ideas.  I was having far too much fun to write much of anything down.  Now my vacation is almost over, and I'm left with a pile of things I had hoped to get done.  No regrets- I'll get done what I need to in the next couple of days, and do the rest over the next few weeks and months.

I did do one thing I had been thinking about for a long time: I got a tattoo.  Now, I've never really wanted a tattoo, or any other body alteration.  I toyed with getting my ear pierced in high school.  This was years ago, when it was a relatively new thing for guys to do; I believe it involved a bet with a friend about getting into certain colleges.  I didn't make it into the one I was shooting for, MIT I think.  I'm cool with other people doing whatever they want to themselves; it just never excited me.  And more recently it has become so popular that almost everyone my age or younger has one, and I am the kind of person who will purposely not do what everyone else is doing.  Maybe it's an extension of not liking crowds?  Maybe I'm just a contrarian asshole?  Anyway, I had never considered getting a tattoo.

Then my brother died.  As you can imagine, that was a huge blow to me, and my family.  Our dad had died a couple of years before, and that was bad enough.  But Andy and I got through that together.  It was really hard getting through Andy's death.  He would have been the person I turned to- I needed him there to support me!  Our family pulled together, but it was still a rough time.  Thankfully I had Miss Mox, who helped me so much, even from afar.  She's still there for me when something little makes me think of Andy.  She got to meet him once, which is something else I am immensely thankful for.  They got along well, and we all had a blast that last time I saw him.

I think of him all the time, particularly at this time of year since he was so into plants.  There are so many things I want to ask him, tell him, show him.  So it's not like I'm going to forget him.  But talking to his friends, and remembering him, planted an idea in my head.  He was into nature, and involved in Native American spirituality. He told a few people that his spirit guide was the dragonfly.  Now, I have heard that you're not supposed to tell anyone that; I don't know all the details, but he might have had a vision about it, or maybe just really liked them.  Maybe he picked the dragonfly and shared it, but kept his true spirit guide a secret (I kinda hope that's the case.)  Still, dragonflies were important to him, as was Native culture in general, and I had a little vision- of a dragonfly with eagle feathers as its wings.  And since he had some tattoos, getting one to memorialize him seemed appropriate.  I ran the idea by the wise woman and medicine man he knew, and they approved.  So I started looking at designs, and had a pretty good idea what I wanted.

But I was nervous about getting the tattoo, and unsure about whether someone could really translate my idea into reality.  I researched tattoo parlors a bit, and talked to people who have tats about the whole process.  I kinda let it simmer on the back burner of my subconscious.  Then, walking in the park the other day with Miss Mox, little dragonflies swooped around us.  I thought of Andy watching them, and looking at the plants flourishing along the path.  And so I figured- now's a good time.  I have some time off, and if I wait I'll just put it off forever.  So we went to the place I picked, and talked to an artist about our ideas (sweetie got one too- an infinity symbol, for us.  I might get a matching one- we'll see how I feel when this heals...)

Alison, the tattoo artist, came up with a design that looked really cool; I asked for a few changes, which she made so it looked just as I'd imagined it- actually better.  And then- holy shit- I was under the needle.  I was nervous.  I knew there'd be pain but not how much.  And- it wasn't bad.  Oh, it wasn't fun; call it moderate discomfort with some pain.  But Miss Mox was there to distract me, and Alison walked me through it.  I had leafed through her sketchbook and was impressed by her artistic ability, and she helped me relax even when I was wincing.

The whole staff were welcoming and easygoing.  A modern tattoo parlor is a cross between a clinic and an art gallery- nothing like the grubby ones from old movies.  It was a pleasant experience from start to finish.  Okay, I'm lying, there were a few minutes of unpleasantness, but I gritted my teeth and made it through.

I wish Andy were here.  I think he'd like the tattoo.  I think of him when I see it.  I miss him.  But this will keep him near my heart, physically as well as emotionally.