In my mind I can hear the warning signals that interrupt radio shows the first Saturday of every month when they test the tornado system. For the past two months, we have spent time talking about kids and about our lives, but we haven’t had them around yet. Granted, the weekend we met included the children, but they were preoccupied and we didn’t all do things together as a group.
They were hurting – mostly because the Ogre made it very clear that they were an inconvenience. What I failed to see was that even though he kept talking about how much he loved me (which was all just verbage) he made it clear to the kids that he did not love them. His innuendo was that they caused the problems in the marriage – truth is, he never showed up in the first place, so no marriage ever existed. Ironically, as I was looking some divorce rights up on the Internet, I discovered I had grounds to annul the marriage legally – to make it as though it never existed – sounded good to me.
There is nothing more painful than to be dependent upon someone who sees you as a burden – Harry Potter and the Dursleys comes to mind. To spend even a week with someone like that is tough, but my kids have gone through it for almost two years. Had I seen this, it would have stopped long ago, but the Ogre is talented in deception, so I chalked a lot up to growing pains for a blended family. Big oops there.
Most of the time in childhood is a critical time. As the mom, I have been deeply concerned that the kids would be scarred because they have not seen what a healthy relationship looks like. Last time I dated before this, Josh was 5 and Jerra was only 9. That is a long time. We have spent a lot of weekends running away – to the lake, to the movies, to Indy – just anywhere that the kids and I could be a family without the Ogre. At least through all of this they knew that I loved them – because I show up.
Then you came along. Jake liked you right off – I still think it was the flamingo shirt – but he is a pretty good judge of character. I couldn’t get Jerra to move, she liked you too. It is amazing to me that the kids are even open to the idea of seeing you. I was afraid maybe they were damaged for life. I think it is because you are like me in that you listen to them when they want to talk to you on the phone. My good friends do that, it helps the kids feel valued.
So this week was the true testament to the healing that has gone on in my house. Jerra got on the phone and asked if we could come see you. Didn’t check with me first, just got on and asked. No way was I going to turn down the chance, but I wasn’t sure if the boys would buy into coming to see you. Josh didn’t even hesitate. Neither did Jacob – though he did ask that the PS2 be available for the drive.
It is amazing that their hearts are still open, that they are willing to like you, and willing to give you a chance even though their recent experience with my love life was INCREDIBLY BAD. This weekend is a test for all of us – or maybe just a testament to what happens if you keep the faith.
Three kids, single man, 600 miles, a pool, a museum, humidity and farm animals – sounds like the formula for either a great weekend or a horror film.
Friday, July 30, 2004
Thursday, July 29, 2004
Peking Duck and Babies - Part 1
Almost a year and a half ago, we went out for Chinese food and then had to stop by the farm store on the way home for a tractor part. When we walked through the door - there was this wondrous cheeping sound coming from the black troughs near the door. When we looked inside, Jerra and I fell in love. There were so many little ducklings - a tub of yellow ones, a tub of yellow and black ones and then four tubs of multi-colored chicks. We spent several moments and then hatched a plan to take them home. We have 5 acres, we could use the ducks to help eat the grubs in the lawn and keep down the bugs in my garden. It is a great selling point, but really wasn't the reason for the ducks. They were adorable, and the sweet little pink beaks just begged to be taken home. After some eye-lash batting and carefully placed requests, we took three home in a box. It was great - they followed us everywhere.
Unfortunately, as they got bigger, they needed more and more attention. This came at a very inopportune time for the family as our new addition was deciding a wife and kids was not what he bargained for - so some of the joy was sucked right out of the house each time he complained about the noise from the precious little ones. Finally, at his insistence, the ducks were put in a pen outside. The first night, a fox came in and took the female away. I was demolished - and determined to replace her - so I did a little research.
The males I had are Rouens - they look like wild mallard ducks, but don't fly more than a couple of feet. I called a couple of hatcheries to ask about getting baby girl ducks. One woman was hesitant to give me any babies because she was afraid the males I had would be sex crazed - what an image, sex-crazed ducks. Weird. The female Rouens are pretty good egg layers, but Indian Runners are the most prolific - so if I was going to go into business, I needed some girls who were prolific. If you are allergic to chicken eggs, the duck eggs are a good substitute. I found some online for sale upwards of $40 for a dozen and a half. These ducks would be "free range" because I feed them corn, but the majority of their diet is the alfalfa and wild grasses and bugs that live in the yard. I don't use pesticides...So a thought occurred to me. I talked to the local health food store and they were interested in buying duck eggs provided I could verify they were organically raised. No problem there. They were also interested in any excess from my garden - which in the rich soil from the flood plane, is always producing in excess.
Coming soon - part two, Ducks in a Box
Unfortunately, as they got bigger, they needed more and more attention. This came at a very inopportune time for the family as our new addition was deciding a wife and kids was not what he bargained for - so some of the joy was sucked right out of the house each time he complained about the noise from the precious little ones. Finally, at his insistence, the ducks were put in a pen outside. The first night, a fox came in and took the female away. I was demolished - and determined to replace her - so I did a little research.
The males I had are Rouens - they look like wild mallard ducks, but don't fly more than a couple of feet. I called a couple of hatcheries to ask about getting baby girl ducks. One woman was hesitant to give me any babies because she was afraid the males I had would be sex crazed - what an image, sex-crazed ducks. Weird. The female Rouens are pretty good egg layers, but Indian Runners are the most prolific - so if I was going to go into business, I needed some girls who were prolific. If you are allergic to chicken eggs, the duck eggs are a good substitute. I found some online for sale upwards of $40 for a dozen and a half. These ducks would be "free range" because I feed them corn, but the majority of their diet is the alfalfa and wild grasses and bugs that live in the yard. I don't use pesticides...So a thought occurred to me. I talked to the local health food store and they were interested in buying duck eggs provided I could verify they were organically raised. No problem there. They were also interested in any excess from my garden - which in the rich soil from the flood plane, is always producing in excess.
Coming soon - part two, Ducks in a Box
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
How I feel with Apologies to James Joyce
What is it about you that entrances me? The sweet smell of your skin, the taste of that small hollow at the base of your throat – I can just see it peeking out from your collar in the pictures from the wedding - beckoning me to come and play again. All around this spiritual love I have for you there is also a wild craving for every inch of your body, for the feel of you in my hands, for knowledge of every secret part, for understanding how each inch of you reacts when you are happy, when you are tired, when you are comforted. My body remembers you, at a primal level that is more about feeling safe than recently satisfied when I am with you. I have to laugh, when you worry that I might forget how you feel – I am more worried that I can’t stop remembering.
But is it really just the physicallity of you that has captured me, with tethers that have allowed me free movement? Physical needs alone would feel familiar. I know how to handle infatuation - the condition of lonely deception that encourages people to pair even though it is not real. I know how to feel when it is just about sex, but this is much more intimate. I feel both intrigued and vulnerable – like I have rolled onto my back in submission, exposing my jugular vein to you. Even in talking about corporal intimacies, there is a deeper connection that makes it sacred rather than profane. Things I would never discuss over the phone have flowed from me as repeatedly I choose to say what I really think, sometimes surprising myself.
It is your thoughts that make me hunger for more. If I could never touch you again, I would still need to hear your voice. The things you feel passionately about, the machinations that hold your interest, the verbal sparring and quick wit that make me come back for more. I have a thousand excuses not to believe this is real, and who would blame either of us since we have already endured so much. None of those excuses stops me from wanting to talk to you hours on end just to see what you might say. Exploring what you think since I cannot explore how you feel. I close my eyes most of the time, just basking in the sound of your words on my ears. And they touch me when you cannot, my body warm with thoughts of laying in your arms, breathing you in. I love that as the night wears on, I can hear the change in the cadence and tone of your voice as you look at the time and realize I am up way too late. Your words become softer, the sound deeper, like a song I recognize but can’t quite remember.
But is it really just the physicallity of you that has captured me, with tethers that have allowed me free movement? Physical needs alone would feel familiar. I know how to handle infatuation - the condition of lonely deception that encourages people to pair even though it is not real. I know how to feel when it is just about sex, but this is much more intimate. I feel both intrigued and vulnerable – like I have rolled onto my back in submission, exposing my jugular vein to you. Even in talking about corporal intimacies, there is a deeper connection that makes it sacred rather than profane. Things I would never discuss over the phone have flowed from me as repeatedly I choose to say what I really think, sometimes surprising myself.
It is your thoughts that make me hunger for more. If I could never touch you again, I would still need to hear your voice. The things you feel passionately about, the machinations that hold your interest, the verbal sparring and quick wit that make me come back for more. I have a thousand excuses not to believe this is real, and who would blame either of us since we have already endured so much. None of those excuses stops me from wanting to talk to you hours on end just to see what you might say. Exploring what you think since I cannot explore how you feel. I close my eyes most of the time, just basking in the sound of your words on my ears. And they touch me when you cannot, my body warm with thoughts of laying in your arms, breathing you in. I love that as the night wears on, I can hear the change in the cadence and tone of your voice as you look at the time and realize I am up way too late. Your words become softer, the sound deeper, like a song I recognize but can’t quite remember.
Monday, July 26, 2004
Enough
I want to be enough
For years I have not been
Good enough
Pretty enough
Thin enough
Proper enough
I have not been the vision
Of the daughter my mother
Thought she was getting
That hot July day
When they picked me up
And brought me home
Sweltering in the heat,
Laying on her lap
I have the odd memory
Of the aqua carpet in the car
As I rode to my new home
My real home, real parents
I have come to accept
That I will never be short
That I am not often quiet
That my hips are broad
That my hands are big
That proper doesn’t fit for me
Being proper and meeting
The expectations of others
Feels like trying to breathe
Through Saran wrap
Hot, sticky, suffocating
Not making anyone happier
I need the mud on bare feet
The garden in my hands
Flowers in my yard
Fruit trees blooming and
Birthing the juicy bits
That make up a life really lived
I need a houseful of people
Laughter, arguing, joy
In the day to day battles
Of a family of unique people
Making a difference one day
Making a mess another
I need to be enough for you
I need to be the best thing
That ever happened to you
Instead of a substitute
Filling up the lonely places
I need to be what you were looking for
But didn’t know you needed
For years I have not been
Good enough
Pretty enough
Thin enough
Proper enough
I have not been the vision
Of the daughter my mother
Thought she was getting
That hot July day
When they picked me up
And brought me home
Sweltering in the heat,
Laying on her lap
I have the odd memory
Of the aqua carpet in the car
As I rode to my new home
My real home, real parents
I have come to accept
That I will never be short
That I am not often quiet
That my hips are broad
That my hands are big
That proper doesn’t fit for me
Being proper and meeting
The expectations of others
Feels like trying to breathe
Through Saran wrap
Hot, sticky, suffocating
Not making anyone happier
I need the mud on bare feet
The garden in my hands
Flowers in my yard
Fruit trees blooming and
Birthing the juicy bits
That make up a life really lived
I need a houseful of people
Laughter, arguing, joy
In the day to day battles
Of a family of unique people
Making a difference one day
Making a mess another
I need to be enough for you
I need to be the best thing
That ever happened to you
Instead of a substitute
Filling up the lonely places
I need to be what you were looking for
But didn’t know you needed
Saturday, July 24, 2004
I Used to Be That Girl
I sorted through pictures
Intending to put my life
In order before you
To allow you to see the
Brilliant blue of Jacob’s eyes
The charming curls in Joshua’s hair
And the disarming smile
Jerra has had since her first days
As I sorted, I realized how much
I have changed over this time.
I saw pictures at 18, when my body
Was young, and my waist was small
But my instinct was weak
And I allowed myself to be manipulated
Basing what I felt on the opinions of others
Looking back now, I see the dress size
And I know that outer beauty did not bring
Me the happiness I needed
Having men watch me walk, undressing me
Never knowing if it was the figure
Or the person that kept them coming back
And not knowing just fed the demons
Hungry for more destruction
When I had Jerra, I realized there was a reason
That my hands are big, and my hips are broad
Able to work long hours caring
For a house and a baby and a garden
Able to balance her little body on my hip
While cleaning up and cooking dinner
Reaching the top shelves alone
When there was no one else to help me
I moved, and moved again
Lost a job, lost a husband and still
There was a little soul to care for
My body was able to subsist on very little
Saving the money to keep her fed
And dressed and in daycare so I could
Build a better life for her- living on peanut butter
Then Joshua came, and my hips grew broader
My body was tired and now there were two
But strength of bone comes in handy
Balancing two babies who need comfort
And my lap was sufficient to read to both
As Joshua nestled his ringlets
Into my chubby arms, saying he loved them.
Jacob’s coming wracked my body
The stretch marks on my belly bearing
Eternal testament to his ten and a half pound body
The skin is pearly now, but I see the marks
Fondly and remember his blue eyes and dark hair
Shoulders the size of Montana,
On the day he came quietly, trying to breathe
Do I miss the figure of the girl in those pictures?
Only when I think I would like to be
That shape for my love, a comely girl again
But then my heart would be lacking -
I would have missed out on nursing babies
Late into the night, watching the little mouth
Go slack with satiety and sleep
And I know I would not be the same soul
Without the trauma to my body that
Comes only with nourishing another life
Loving another person so much that
You give your own body, your sleep, your time
Your food, your money, and all your energy
My body is not as I’d like, but it is well with my soul
If I had been a small woman, how much
More difficult the task of parenting alone?
My muscles have enabled me to move, lift
To put in the piers every summer
And till the garden under every fall
To carry 50 pounds of dog food
Or a sleepy 90 pound child
I used to be that girl, and inside
Somewhere is the same beauty I see in
The pictures. But now I look at my kids and
See it, instead of gazing at myself
For what is a better reflection of the
Mother than the charm and beauty of herChildren, gathered up in her arms.
Intending to put my life
In order before you
To allow you to see the
Brilliant blue of Jacob’s eyes
The charming curls in Joshua’s hair
And the disarming smile
Jerra has had since her first days
As I sorted, I realized how much
I have changed over this time.
I saw pictures at 18, when my body
Was young, and my waist was small
But my instinct was weak
And I allowed myself to be manipulated
Basing what I felt on the opinions of others
Looking back now, I see the dress size
And I know that outer beauty did not bring
Me the happiness I needed
Having men watch me walk, undressing me
Never knowing if it was the figure
Or the person that kept them coming back
And not knowing just fed the demons
Hungry for more destruction
When I had Jerra, I realized there was a reason
That my hands are big, and my hips are broad
Able to work long hours caring
For a house and a baby and a garden
Able to balance her little body on my hip
While cleaning up and cooking dinner
Reaching the top shelves alone
When there was no one else to help me
I moved, and moved again
Lost a job, lost a husband and still
There was a little soul to care for
My body was able to subsist on very little
Saving the money to keep her fed
And dressed and in daycare so I could
Build a better life for her- living on peanut butter
Then Joshua came, and my hips grew broader
My body was tired and now there were two
But strength of bone comes in handy
Balancing two babies who need comfort
And my lap was sufficient to read to both
As Joshua nestled his ringlets
Into my chubby arms, saying he loved them.
Jacob’s coming wracked my body
The stretch marks on my belly bearing
Eternal testament to his ten and a half pound body
The skin is pearly now, but I see the marks
Fondly and remember his blue eyes and dark hair
Shoulders the size of Montana,
On the day he came quietly, trying to breathe
Do I miss the figure of the girl in those pictures?
Only when I think I would like to be
That shape for my love, a comely girl again
But then my heart would be lacking -
I would have missed out on nursing babies
Late into the night, watching the little mouth
Go slack with satiety and sleep
And I know I would not be the same soul
Without the trauma to my body that
Comes only with nourishing another life
Loving another person so much that
You give your own body, your sleep, your time
Your food, your money, and all your energy
My body is not as I’d like, but it is well with my soul
If I had been a small woman, how much
More difficult the task of parenting alone?
My muscles have enabled me to move, lift
To put in the piers every summer
And till the garden under every fall
To carry 50 pounds of dog food
Or a sleepy 90 pound child
I used to be that girl, and inside
Somewhere is the same beauty I see in
The pictures. But now I look at my kids and
See it, instead of gazing at myself
For what is a better reflection of the
Mother than the charm and beauty of herChildren, gathered up in her arms.
Thursday, July 15, 2004
My own private scheduled downtime
I came to the realization that I have not had more than 24 hours to myself since April. I have dealt with the onset of epilepsy in my rambunctious child, a new husband who committed adultery and then filed for divorce, a car theft, a move, a dog being run over, ten trips out of town, (not counting the ones to see my folks) and a multitude of great but overwhelming feelings about the beginning of restoration.
I like Job not because of the man, but because it is a testimony to how God restores a person's life to them. Through all of this, I knew that He would see me through, that I would not have a breakdown, that I would be able to take the high road (at least for the most part). He has plans to prosper me, not to harm me. I am thankful now that I have tried to behave in a manner that would make Him proud - and sorry for those moments that my temper got the better of me. In return the most wonderful thing has happened, I have found someone who restores my faith in what men can be. He is just human like the rest of us, but he is kinder to me than anyone has ever been. I know there are wonderful men in this world - my dad, my uncles, my sons. I also know that I have ended up on the wrong end of that spectrum way too many times. What an amazing thing to find someone who lets me dream again.
There is no way to know what the future brings for any of us - but to steal his line, if I got hit by lightning today, I would die happy, knowing that I have been blessed.
So this weekend, I am going to take some time away from being a mother and just be a girl - maybe be a woman if the weekend goes well.
I like Job not because of the man, but because it is a testimony to how God restores a person's life to them. Through all of this, I knew that He would see me through, that I would not have a breakdown, that I would be able to take the high road (at least for the most part). He has plans to prosper me, not to harm me. I am thankful now that I have tried to behave in a manner that would make Him proud - and sorry for those moments that my temper got the better of me. In return the most wonderful thing has happened, I have found someone who restores my faith in what men can be. He is just human like the rest of us, but he is kinder to me than anyone has ever been. I know there are wonderful men in this world - my dad, my uncles, my sons. I also know that I have ended up on the wrong end of that spectrum way too many times. What an amazing thing to find someone who lets me dream again.
There is no way to know what the future brings for any of us - but to steal his line, if I got hit by lightning today, I would die happy, knowing that I have been blessed.
So this weekend, I am going to take some time away from being a mother and just be a girl - maybe be a woman if the weekend goes well.
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
Semantics and Sleep Deprivation
I didn't sleep well last night. I kept waking up, wondering what was going through your head. As usual, teh times that you woke up, I did too. Perfect. The whole day was difficult and the weight of the world was resting on my shoulders - and you fell asleep. It is a good thing I had promised not to be angry when your body gives out at in inopportune moment. So now I have spent the whole night trying to sort things out in my head.
What is all the fuss about the semantics? Is there a huge difference between loving someone and being in love? Isn't that what we want - someone who knows you - your faults as well as your aptitudes - and loves you anyway? Define the difference. When I told someone I loved you, they said there had not been enough time and that maybe I was just in love - stupid semantics. The whole idea doesn't describe it sufficiently anyway. I felt the electricity the first time I talked to you - so did the people around us - poor Magnolia about got burned by the sparks. I know that doesn't happen often - or ever for some people.
People who have been married for years may still have doubts about whether or not they are in love, feelings change, emotions change, people have bad days. Love is not a feeling, it is a choice. A choice to be there even when it is not pretty - sorting out the bones. No one walks into a new relationship with the same kind of love people have after ten years, that takes time, and we don't have that under our belts. I know I have felt the difference between loving someone like a dear friend and feeling like I am not alone anymore, that is the line for me - maybe it is sympatico to borrow Chris's term, the feeling that I have found someone like me whom I understand, and who gives me the feeling that I am not alone anymore, that there are two of us.
It is not difficult to remind me that I am seeing someone - and I have respected that, of course I did, I don't want anyone else. But the implicit bargain is that refusing other lovers means someone has paid the bond by risking his heart. Why is it that saying I love you is SO difficult. I tell my friends that I love them all the time - same with my kids and my folks. I wonder if I died tomorrow if I would regret not saying it for eternity – well, yea, I would. Funny thing about that, it seems this time it is so difficult because it crosses the line - as long as I don't say it, I can pretend. I have moments where I want to say that I am in this too - what if I need to see you, what if I need some reassurance - or a day away. I am not a hedonist, I am a mother, and therefore rarely does my life revolve around what I need. If I get to the point that I actually ask for something, the need is pretty great and has probably existed for quite a while.
Want to talk about yelling into the wind? Why do I have to pay the price for things other women have done? Tired of it. I would like to only be punished for things I did myself. If you polled everyone I have ever dated, you would be hard pressed to find more than one or two people who said I had done something hurtful - and even then it was not on purpose. When we get hurt we have two choices, retreat and make everyone else pay for the sins of others, therefore risking the loss of something pure and real---or FORGIVE the poor soul who didn't have enough sense to see the treasure in your heart and move on with your life, accepting that eventually someone will find you and love you more than you cold have imagined. I refuse to make you pay for things someone else has done - occasionally I slip and say something about the Ogre, but it is accidental. Do I have plenty of reason to be scared - you don't know if you will be able to fall in love with me - yea - but I can only be responsible for how I feel - and I refuse to let fear ruin this. And in my next breath I promise -like I have before- that I will not hurt you.
I have lived my life, at least the last ten years, in a conscious effort to assure that the people I love, know I care about them. My language is showing up - thus the multitude of road trips we take. (This year alone I have been to Arizona, Florida, New Mexico, West Virginia, Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, and Illinois) A person knows you care about them when you SHOW UP in the first place. Sometimes life gets in the way and we can not get to all the events we would like to - but there are times when we need to show up. Sometimes showing up is the only way to express what your heart really means, you are precious enough for me to invest my time and energy to see you. And a wondrous thing happens when you show up - you go to the well. Your soul is filled and your cup overflows. You have a chance to be with the very people who have made you who you are - refreshing the soul, bolstering the spirit, clearing the mind.
So, pick your term, it doesn't matter to me anymore. Protecting my heart is just trying to fool myself anyway, and I don't live like that. Not going to start now. This is not to oblige you into saying you love me, don't want to hear it until you mean it - I have to be able to trust that it is true - especially because I know someone else you said it to. I don't want to talk you into this, it doesn't count if you have to be talked into it. What I want is to be very clear about how I feel and give you a little more food for thought.
What is all the fuss about the semantics? Is there a huge difference between loving someone and being in love? Isn't that what we want - someone who knows you - your faults as well as your aptitudes - and loves you anyway? Define the difference. When I told someone I loved you, they said there had not been enough time and that maybe I was just in love - stupid semantics. The whole idea doesn't describe it sufficiently anyway. I felt the electricity the first time I talked to you - so did the people around us - poor Magnolia about got burned by the sparks. I know that doesn't happen often - or ever for some people.
People who have been married for years may still have doubts about whether or not they are in love, feelings change, emotions change, people have bad days. Love is not a feeling, it is a choice. A choice to be there even when it is not pretty - sorting out the bones. No one walks into a new relationship with the same kind of love people have after ten years, that takes time, and we don't have that under our belts. I know I have felt the difference between loving someone like a dear friend and feeling like I am not alone anymore, that is the line for me - maybe it is sympatico to borrow Chris's term, the feeling that I have found someone like me whom I understand, and who gives me the feeling that I am not alone anymore, that there are two of us.
It is not difficult to remind me that I am seeing someone - and I have respected that, of course I did, I don't want anyone else. But the implicit bargain is that refusing other lovers means someone has paid the bond by risking his heart. Why is it that saying I love you is SO difficult. I tell my friends that I love them all the time - same with my kids and my folks. I wonder if I died tomorrow if I would regret not saying it for eternity – well, yea, I would. Funny thing about that, it seems this time it is so difficult because it crosses the line - as long as I don't say it, I can pretend. I have moments where I want to say that I am in this too - what if I need to see you, what if I need some reassurance - or a day away. I am not a hedonist, I am a mother, and therefore rarely does my life revolve around what I need. If I get to the point that I actually ask for something, the need is pretty great and has probably existed for quite a while.
Want to talk about yelling into the wind? Why do I have to pay the price for things other women have done? Tired of it. I would like to only be punished for things I did myself. If you polled everyone I have ever dated, you would be hard pressed to find more than one or two people who said I had done something hurtful - and even then it was not on purpose. When we get hurt we have two choices, retreat and make everyone else pay for the sins of others, therefore risking the loss of something pure and real---or FORGIVE the poor soul who didn't have enough sense to see the treasure in your heart and move on with your life, accepting that eventually someone will find you and love you more than you cold have imagined. I refuse to make you pay for things someone else has done - occasionally I slip and say something about the Ogre, but it is accidental. Do I have plenty of reason to be scared - you don't know if you will be able to fall in love with me - yea - but I can only be responsible for how I feel - and I refuse to let fear ruin this. And in my next breath I promise -like I have before- that I will not hurt you.
I have lived my life, at least the last ten years, in a conscious effort to assure that the people I love, know I care about them. My language is showing up - thus the multitude of road trips we take. (This year alone I have been to Arizona, Florida, New Mexico, West Virginia, Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, and Illinois) A person knows you care about them when you SHOW UP in the first place. Sometimes life gets in the way and we can not get to all the events we would like to - but there are times when we need to show up. Sometimes showing up is the only way to express what your heart really means, you are precious enough for me to invest my time and energy to see you. And a wondrous thing happens when you show up - you go to the well. Your soul is filled and your cup overflows. You have a chance to be with the very people who have made you who you are - refreshing the soul, bolstering the spirit, clearing the mind.
So, pick your term, it doesn't matter to me anymore. Protecting my heart is just trying to fool myself anyway, and I don't live like that. Not going to start now. This is not to oblige you into saying you love me, don't want to hear it until you mean it - I have to be able to trust that it is true - especially because I know someone else you said it to. I don't want to talk you into this, it doesn't count if you have to be talked into it. What I want is to be very clear about how I feel and give you a little more food for thought.
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Today I am not brave
Wondering today if I have let myself
Go to far, feel too much
Believe in a possibility
That may only exist in my head
Nothing particularly happened,
But still things are not said
It is what is withheld that frightens me
Into thinking maybe I have misunderstood
I want so badly to believe the story
My heart is telling me to be true
I want to hear that soothing voice
Over and over again in my ears, reassuring
And yet there is a nagging sense
That something is not right
And perhaps I have something to fear
But I have made my choice and I will not
Maybe it is too little sleep, exhaustion,
Or too much drama, or my
Normal lack of patience unable
To wait for a good thing
This is new territory
Intensity of emotion
Feeling both freedom and fear
Simultaneously, disconcertingly near
Maybe it is being alone too long
Even in the presence of others
And now feeling like myself again
I want more of a man who helps me feel alive
I am developing a need for him
I can see it in my day, scheduling
Time to get my fill, but it is a poor substitution
What I really want, I cannot have
A part of me wants to run
Far and fast to escape what I feel
A part of me wants something else
To think about and somewhere else to be
And I question myself: What would I want?
Families involved? Moving? Money spent?
Rushing things which will leave lingering
Questions instead of something proven over time?
Just like him I wish to see in the crystal ball
And know that everything will turn out
Just as I have dared to imagine in dreams
And how that could be is a mystery
On a day like today, I cannot even use
My own words as a touchstone
Do you like spending time with me?
Do you like talking to me?
Everything else we are worrying about is irrelevant
Today I am not brave, I just am
Go to far, feel too much
Believe in a possibility
That may only exist in my head
Nothing particularly happened,
But still things are not said
It is what is withheld that frightens me
Into thinking maybe I have misunderstood
I want so badly to believe the story
My heart is telling me to be true
I want to hear that soothing voice
Over and over again in my ears, reassuring
And yet there is a nagging sense
That something is not right
And perhaps I have something to fear
But I have made my choice and I will not
Maybe it is too little sleep, exhaustion,
Or too much drama, or my
Normal lack of patience unable
To wait for a good thing
This is new territory
Intensity of emotion
Feeling both freedom and fear
Simultaneously, disconcertingly near
Maybe it is being alone too long
Even in the presence of others
And now feeling like myself again
I want more of a man who helps me feel alive
I am developing a need for him
I can see it in my day, scheduling
Time to get my fill, but it is a poor substitution
What I really want, I cannot have
A part of me wants to run
Far and fast to escape what I feel
A part of me wants something else
To think about and somewhere else to be
And I question myself: What would I want?
Families involved? Moving? Money spent?
Rushing things which will leave lingering
Questions instead of something proven over time?
Just like him I wish to see in the crystal ball
And know that everything will turn out
Just as I have dared to imagine in dreams
And how that could be is a mystery
On a day like today, I cannot even use
My own words as a touchstone
Do you like spending time with me?
Do you like talking to me?
Everything else we are worrying about is irrelevant
Today I am not brave, I just am
Monday, July 12, 2004
Amazed
Do you ever wake up in the morning and just feel all refreshed like there was some delicious dream that has changed your life? I had the revelation during last night's conversation that things have changed and my perception has shifted. I was amazed out of a foggy sleepiness with the idea that all along things have been the same for both of us - all those moments that I reach for you before I wake up, you have been having too. I was ruling out chemistry, lonliness, diversion, sexual attraction, boredom, and a host of other possible reasons why I cannot stop thinking about you - seriously cannot stop thinking about you, I get about an hour's work done, and there you are again. It is you I miss - not the rush of hormones - though I will not deny that I enjoy that - it is the small intimacies during the day- waking up in the morning, getting out of the shower, sitting down at dinner, talking about work - when I wish you were here. A part of me wants to put everything in my life on hold until you can get here so that you don't miss it.
Over the weekend I told you I am not afraid - I will not live my life in fear - and what have I to fear from you - that you will change your mind? That you won't want to deal with some aspect of my life? That it will be too difficult to be apart or together? I was serious when I said I was not foolish enough to lose you without a fight. Even if the day comes that you decide this is not what you want, I will be forever changed by the tenderness you have shown me - by your concern, by your gentle words when I really needed them. I am not going to worry about any of those things anymore, I am just going to enjoy the amazing entity we have found in one another. You asked me if I was willing to deal with you not knowing what you want - well why not - I am not sure what I want either - not sure where my path will go - but I know that when I think about my future - you are in it.
Every time I talk to you, I fall in love with you all over again. I strengthen my resolve to put up barriers, keep my heart safe, then you speak in the quiet soothing tone, like chocolate melting, the sweetness infusing the words. And that is it for me - the defenses tumble wildly and all I want is to touch you, to caress your face, and feel the intimacy of breathing again. I have not forgotten my other responsibilities, I like how I am with you and somehow you make me better at all the things I do - including being a mother.
Watch the end of French Kiss - I want you - that is all - I want you...
Over the weekend I told you I am not afraid - I will not live my life in fear - and what have I to fear from you - that you will change your mind? That you won't want to deal with some aspect of my life? That it will be too difficult to be apart or together? I was serious when I said I was not foolish enough to lose you without a fight. Even if the day comes that you decide this is not what you want, I will be forever changed by the tenderness you have shown me - by your concern, by your gentle words when I really needed them. I am not going to worry about any of those things anymore, I am just going to enjoy the amazing entity we have found in one another. You asked me if I was willing to deal with you not knowing what you want - well why not - I am not sure what I want either - not sure where my path will go - but I know that when I think about my future - you are in it.
Every time I talk to you, I fall in love with you all over again. I strengthen my resolve to put up barriers, keep my heart safe, then you speak in the quiet soothing tone, like chocolate melting, the sweetness infusing the words. And that is it for me - the defenses tumble wildly and all I want is to touch you, to caress your face, and feel the intimacy of breathing again. I have not forgotten my other responsibilities, I like how I am with you and somehow you make me better at all the things I do - including being a mother.
Watch the end of French Kiss - I want you - that is all - I want you...
Sunday, July 11, 2004
Why I Love Weddings
I have a big family. My mom has 5 brothers and sisters, all of whom have kids and live nearby. My dad has 8 brothers and sisters, two of whom have passed away, but the rest of whom have been pretty prolific. We had a wedding on Saturday on my dad's side of the family and it was a wondrous thing to see. Beautiful bride, handsome, nervous groom, young people in fancy dresses and tuxedo, little flower girls in organza dresses, twirling on the dance floor, and a room full of people who liked them both and were glad to see them together. She fixed his tie after dinner, he walked her through the room with his hand in the small of her back, guiding her gently.
I have a big Catholic family - with the patriarchs, long since past, a carpenter and the daughter of a doctor who converted and was disowned for loving her husband. A passion like that brought forth these nine kids. Every one of my aunts and uncles has been professionally and financially successful - all of them went to college with the exception of the oldest child who died before my father, the second oldest was born. Like any family, there are lots of stories about growing up, funny and poignant alike.
At the wedding, the stories focused on how each of these people found their true love - describing the moment of realization - over and over again I heard the description of how there was something oddly familiar and intriguing. Christina, my wondrous cousin, and I deduced that this was chemistry. Of course this was after midnight and a considerable amount of Capitan Morgan, but between us, we have known enough romance, bad and good, that we decided we could play expert. Chemistry differing from attraction in that chemistry is an electrically charged force that makes you look again and want to know more - and attraction, which may or may not be present as well, is the force of purely hormones recognizing someone who is your physical type. Chemistry doesn't happen with every person you date, but seemed to be an ongoing theme in the descriptions of how people met. Sometime I will start to record these stories. Seems like in a time where people have trouble recognizing the difference between something that will last and physical attraction, it might be helpful to look at those relationships that last forty years.
I love weddings because they are a testimony that people will commit to love and hope and a future - in spite of the ugly and discouraging divorce rate. I love them because we get to dress up - even though I hate the curling iron with a passion. I love getting to see people we have not seen in ages - and at a Catholic wedding, dancing and drinking ensue, making the whole affair like a formal frat party. I love the music they play at weddings, the old love songs, Frank Sinatra, Billie Holliday, Bing Crosby...Even corny songs sound good at a wedding. This wedding helped me remember another wedding I attended recently, and if I had not felt lonely before, thoughts of that encounter left me strangely empty and wanting a plane ticket south.
Mostly, I love weddings because two people make themselves publicly very vulnerable, and the honesty of the emotions in that moment always makes me cry. Funny, that someone who has walked the aisle more than once would like weddings at all. Cockeyed optimist...Maybe. But more importantly, weddings give me a chance to see that there are people in the world who find their other half and live happily ever after.
I have a big Catholic family - with the patriarchs, long since past, a carpenter and the daughter of a doctor who converted and was disowned for loving her husband. A passion like that brought forth these nine kids. Every one of my aunts and uncles has been professionally and financially successful - all of them went to college with the exception of the oldest child who died before my father, the second oldest was born. Like any family, there are lots of stories about growing up, funny and poignant alike.
At the wedding, the stories focused on how each of these people found their true love - describing the moment of realization - over and over again I heard the description of how there was something oddly familiar and intriguing. Christina, my wondrous cousin, and I deduced that this was chemistry. Of course this was after midnight and a considerable amount of Capitan Morgan, but between us, we have known enough romance, bad and good, that we decided we could play expert. Chemistry differing from attraction in that chemistry is an electrically charged force that makes you look again and want to know more - and attraction, which may or may not be present as well, is the force of purely hormones recognizing someone who is your physical type. Chemistry doesn't happen with every person you date, but seemed to be an ongoing theme in the descriptions of how people met. Sometime I will start to record these stories. Seems like in a time where people have trouble recognizing the difference between something that will last and physical attraction, it might be helpful to look at those relationships that last forty years.
I love weddings because they are a testimony that people will commit to love and hope and a future - in spite of the ugly and discouraging divorce rate. I love them because we get to dress up - even though I hate the curling iron with a passion. I love getting to see people we have not seen in ages - and at a Catholic wedding, dancing and drinking ensue, making the whole affair like a formal frat party. I love the music they play at weddings, the old love songs, Frank Sinatra, Billie Holliday, Bing Crosby...Even corny songs sound good at a wedding. This wedding helped me remember another wedding I attended recently, and if I had not felt lonely before, thoughts of that encounter left me strangely empty and wanting a plane ticket south.
Mostly, I love weddings because two people make themselves publicly very vulnerable, and the honesty of the emotions in that moment always makes me cry. Funny, that someone who has walked the aisle more than once would like weddings at all. Cockeyed optimist...Maybe. But more importantly, weddings give me a chance to see that there are people in the world who find their other half and live happily ever after.
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