Monday, June 25, 2007
(Everybody's got something to hide except for)
Me and My Monkey (Part II)
Idexa agreed to take breaks so I could photograph our progress.
She worked for three hours.
I had a strong memory of my mother while Idexa's drill burred into my skin; one I hadn't thought of in years. She used to draw elaborate pictures on my feet. My favorite was a spiderweb that covered my foot and ran up the inside of my ankle, with a spider spinning away at the top.
"Do you like spiders?" Idexa asked.
"No," I said. In fact, both my mom and I were phobic. But somehow it was comforting, Mom lazily drawing the web as I lay back on her flowered quilt. She cradled my foot and we talked about nothing. I looked at my dad's painting that hung above their bed: a wingless angel flying overhead, cupping a palmful of light. If you fuzzed your eyes just a bit, though, it looked instead like the face of an old bearded man wearing goggles.
There it is, the finished product. You can say it - you know you're thinking it - I now have a monkey on my back.