Dishpan hands and an aching back.
She never could have imagined this.
All she had ever wanted,
Hers.
One more year and the light through the cracks in the windows
might shine a little more.
Two more years might mean less of the tension hardening his jaw,
and more of the laugh that reminds her of falling in love.
It seems selfish to say that things are anything but wonderful.
To wish for anything better.
She wonders if it’s her.
She wonders if all the things she is giving will ever be enough.
She wonders when the time will come.
Hers.
One more year is another year of their innocence lost.
The days of firsts will be spread so much thinner.
Two more years – will she remember where she’s been?
Will it be everything she wanted?
She needs to know she’ll miss this.
Saturday 26 November 2011
I Won't Be Left Dancing Alone To Songs Of The Past
How much you’ve changed.
Were you always this heavy?
Were you always this light?
You used to fit better.
Perhaps it was all in my mind.
Do I still want you?
Did I ever?
Does it matter?
Should you have stayed lost in the snow?
Maybe all you need is some polish.
Were you always this heavy?
Were you always this light?
You used to fit better.
Perhaps it was all in my mind.
Do I still want you?
Did I ever?
Does it matter?
Should you have stayed lost in the snow?
Maybe all you need is some polish.
I Want To Live Where Soul Meets Body
“So where do we go from here?”
It is very hard to admit to myself that I don’t always know the answer to that question. I feeling like I’ve been in hiding. I don’t know if time stopped for me, or if I was off in my own world. At any rate, everyone and everything else kept going and I’m struggling to catch up. It doesn’t help that I’m not really doing things, well, normally. I am trying to be all sorts of things at the same time, and I’m not sure how I am supposed to do that. Everything has happened to quickly in my life, and I am just now grabbing hold of a fence and trying to steady myself.
I look back and I am just completely at a loss. Where did it all go? I have gained so much in it’s place but without any sort of a goodbye to what used to be.
I think I have stopped writing because I lost my bravery. I have lost the courage that led me to be honest with myself. These days, life seems more and more like a contest that I am an unwilling participant in. It is all on display in a window with no blinds, on a very public street. So, I’ve tried to hide and I’ve tried to minimize the onlookers. I have tried to get everyone to keep on walking by with a facade that everything is under control. However, the truth is that I just need a moment. And the more I try to hide, the more I feel alone and left behind.
I used to be able to get to this place where I could find the answers, and keep moving forward. Now, I keep moving, but I can’t get to that place anymore. And meanwhile, time just keeps running and running and running. I am afraid that someday time will have run out, and I will still be clinging to that fence; still trying to figure it out.
It is very hard to admit to myself that I don’t always know the answer to that question. I feeling like I’ve been in hiding. I don’t know if time stopped for me, or if I was off in my own world. At any rate, everyone and everything else kept going and I’m struggling to catch up. It doesn’t help that I’m not really doing things, well, normally. I am trying to be all sorts of things at the same time, and I’m not sure how I am supposed to do that. Everything has happened to quickly in my life, and I am just now grabbing hold of a fence and trying to steady myself.
I look back and I am just completely at a loss. Where did it all go? I have gained so much in it’s place but without any sort of a goodbye to what used to be.
I think I have stopped writing because I lost my bravery. I have lost the courage that led me to be honest with myself. These days, life seems more and more like a contest that I am an unwilling participant in. It is all on display in a window with no blinds, on a very public street. So, I’ve tried to hide and I’ve tried to minimize the onlookers. I have tried to get everyone to keep on walking by with a facade that everything is under control. However, the truth is that I just need a moment. And the more I try to hide, the more I feel alone and left behind.
I used to be able to get to this place where I could find the answers, and keep moving forward. Now, I keep moving, but I can’t get to that place anymore. And meanwhile, time just keeps running and running and running. I am afraid that someday time will have run out, and I will still be clinging to that fence; still trying to figure it out.
How Long Do You Want To Be Loved? Is Forever Enough?
It was hard. And I was afraid. Not as much in the beginning; there was only excitement then. But as time went on. It was more about silly things, but they did seem real at the time. When would it end? Why do I feel as though I’m not even here, but merely looking down on myself. It now reminds me of a story that I read to you, about two “scaredy cats…who began to wonder and worry about scary things”…
But I was also afraid for you. Where were you?
To be honest, it’s hard to recall what it felt like the first time I held you. I was beyond exhausted, barely there. But I remember relief at seeing your daddy holding you close, and I knew you were alright. I’ve never seen him like that before. So proud, so relieved, so in awe.
It was there, in the hospital, that I began to feel what it is that I suppose all mothers feel. I have never felt that way before. I could try to describe it, but I am sure that any words could ever be enough.
I can tell you that later on, there were some days when I would look at you and cry. It has been hard knowing I would have to fight to give you all that I wanted to. And my dear, I want you to have it all.
I don’t mean the material things. I want you to have your share of those too, but I want you to know the important things in life. I want you to know joy in the small and simplest of things. I want you to know the meaning of love, and carefree abandon. I want you to know the rewards of fighting to see something through, but I never want you to suffer. I want you to know innocence for as long as I can protect it. I want you to know safety, freedom, and home. I want you to know every good feeling – from the thrill of a breakaway, to the calm of laying in the sand. I want you to know opportunity. I want you to see the world.
Sometimes, it is still hard. The timing of all that has happened has not always worked in our favor. It used to bother me on occasion, because of how much I care for you and how badly I want your happiness. Until, one day, a realization came to me:
If everything had not happened the way it did, and you had not come into being at that very moment, you would not be you. I would have never known you. And that, love, would have been a great loss.
I need you to know that I would not change it for the world. I need you to know that I love you, my son, with all of my heart. I am determined to give you the best of this world. As cliche as it is, I can truly say that while it has not always been easy, it has always been – will always be – worth it.
But I was also afraid for you. Where were you?
To be honest, it’s hard to recall what it felt like the first time I held you. I was beyond exhausted, barely there. But I remember relief at seeing your daddy holding you close, and I knew you were alright. I’ve never seen him like that before. So proud, so relieved, so in awe.
It was there, in the hospital, that I began to feel what it is that I suppose all mothers feel. I have never felt that way before. I could try to describe it, but I am sure that any words could ever be enough.
I can tell you that later on, there were some days when I would look at you and cry. It has been hard knowing I would have to fight to give you all that I wanted to. And my dear, I want you to have it all.
I don’t mean the material things. I want you to have your share of those too, but I want you to know the important things in life. I want you to know joy in the small and simplest of things. I want you to know the meaning of love, and carefree abandon. I want you to know the rewards of fighting to see something through, but I never want you to suffer. I want you to know innocence for as long as I can protect it. I want you to know safety, freedom, and home. I want you to know every good feeling – from the thrill of a breakaway, to the calm of laying in the sand. I want you to know opportunity. I want you to see the world.
Sometimes, it is still hard. The timing of all that has happened has not always worked in our favor. It used to bother me on occasion, because of how much I care for you and how badly I want your happiness. Until, one day, a realization came to me:
If everything had not happened the way it did, and you had not come into being at that very moment, you would not be you. I would have never known you. And that, love, would have been a great loss.
I need you to know that I would not change it for the world. I need you to know that I love you, my son, with all of my heart. I am determined to give you the best of this world. As cliche as it is, I can truly say that while it has not always been easy, it has always been – will always be – worth it.
You Wouldn't Like Me If You Met Me
There are people who know me, but probably not as well as they would like to think. There are also people who know me better than I would like to admit. But either way, there is a sort of relationship there. Within these relationships are choices, boundaries, and respect.
You are not in either of those categories.
You are in a category of your own. You do not know me, not at all. And there is no relationship to speak of. And yet, you continue to roll in and out of my life like a tidal wave, leaving unsettling and uprooting reminders at every turn.
If you knew me, you would know that I am kind, sincere, and trying so desperately hard to stay afloat. You would know that I don’t waste my time on things that seem fake, or needless. Especially now. You would know the year I’ve had. You would know how much I care, and how easily I can be hurt. You would know that the last thing that I need is this.
Over and over and over again you would show up. Each time, I would let you, hoping for change. Each time, you would let me down. Finally, I stopped hoping. Finally, it didn’t matter and I didn’t care. You never crossed my mind. But true to the past, you’ve once again shown up to put yourself there.
Does that seem fair to you?
Do you think I am asking for this?
I’ m sorry that you are haunted by your choices. I’m sorry that you feel that you have some right to me, and that it’s okay to treat me like a drop-in dance night. But I did not ask for this. This was your choice, a long time ago. I just happen to have been in the middle of it. However, when you made that choice, you chose to let go.
I would never change that choice, and I am grateful for it. But my being free of you was supposed to have come with the territory.
And now I am angry. I am angry that although I did not choose this, it continues to be a problem for me. I am angry that I cannot even choose to keep you at bay because you are so fleeting. I am angry that you feel I should have to tip toe around you. I am angry that you came into my world, and expected me to run from you, while you chased me. But then, you aren’t chasing me, are you?
I am furious that I am an adult, and you still do not have the respect and decency to treat me as such. I have not treated you with any less.
And most of all, I cannot believe that instead of worrying about my husband, the impending arrival of my new baby, and the countless of other things that I should have on my mind, here I am. Tired, exhausted and awake. Taking the time to let this seep into yet another moment.
I suppose that all I have needed to say is that you don’t know me, and you don’t own any part of me.
I am stubborn, passionate and determined because of my mother. I am kind, reflective, and conscientious because of my father. My beliefs and opinions have been shaped by my family, and by my experiences. I make the same ridiculous expressions and noises as my siblings and my cousins. My love of music, books and any sort of classic have been a part of me since I was old enough to talk. My competitive streak and love of sports probably has something to do with wanting to stick out in a large family. I sing really loudly, talk really loudly, and laugh really really loudly. It’s hard not to know I’m there. I suppose I’m sort of odd; we always have been. The true meaning of love and its fire has continued to amaze me through my husband. I have a tendency to need to figure things out for myself. I have been told that in both a negative and positive way, I can be unstoppable. I am not always proud, but I always learn. I have regretted, I have tried, I have become.
I suppose what I really wanted to say is that I am still me. I am still who I always was. And the people I have to be grateful too for that are the ones who have been there from the beginning.
I guess that for a moment, I just wanted to feel that I was still my own. I needed to remind myself that yes, I do know who I am.
You are not in either of those categories.
You are in a category of your own. You do not know me, not at all. And there is no relationship to speak of. And yet, you continue to roll in and out of my life like a tidal wave, leaving unsettling and uprooting reminders at every turn.
If you knew me, you would know that I am kind, sincere, and trying so desperately hard to stay afloat. You would know that I don’t waste my time on things that seem fake, or needless. Especially now. You would know the year I’ve had. You would know how much I care, and how easily I can be hurt. You would know that the last thing that I need is this.
Over and over and over again you would show up. Each time, I would let you, hoping for change. Each time, you would let me down. Finally, I stopped hoping. Finally, it didn’t matter and I didn’t care. You never crossed my mind. But true to the past, you’ve once again shown up to put yourself there.
Does that seem fair to you?
Do you think I am asking for this?
I’ m sorry that you are haunted by your choices. I’m sorry that you feel that you have some right to me, and that it’s okay to treat me like a drop-in dance night. But I did not ask for this. This was your choice, a long time ago. I just happen to have been in the middle of it. However, when you made that choice, you chose to let go.
I would never change that choice, and I am grateful for it. But my being free of you was supposed to have come with the territory.
And now I am angry. I am angry that although I did not choose this, it continues to be a problem for me. I am angry that I cannot even choose to keep you at bay because you are so fleeting. I am angry that you feel I should have to tip toe around you. I am angry that you came into my world, and expected me to run from you, while you chased me. But then, you aren’t chasing me, are you?
I am furious that I am an adult, and you still do not have the respect and decency to treat me as such. I have not treated you with any less.
And most of all, I cannot believe that instead of worrying about my husband, the impending arrival of my new baby, and the countless of other things that I should have on my mind, here I am. Tired, exhausted and awake. Taking the time to let this seep into yet another moment.
I suppose that all I have needed to say is that you don’t know me, and you don’t own any part of me.
I am stubborn, passionate and determined because of my mother. I am kind, reflective, and conscientious because of my father. My beliefs and opinions have been shaped by my family, and by my experiences. I make the same ridiculous expressions and noises as my siblings and my cousins. My love of music, books and any sort of classic have been a part of me since I was old enough to talk. My competitive streak and love of sports probably has something to do with wanting to stick out in a large family. I sing really loudly, talk really loudly, and laugh really really loudly. It’s hard not to know I’m there. I suppose I’m sort of odd; we always have been. The true meaning of love and its fire has continued to amaze me through my husband. I have a tendency to need to figure things out for myself. I have been told that in both a negative and positive way, I can be unstoppable. I am not always proud, but I always learn. I have regretted, I have tried, I have become.
I suppose what I really wanted to say is that I am still me. I am still who I always was. And the people I have to be grateful too for that are the ones who have been there from the beginning.
I guess that for a moment, I just wanted to feel that I was still my own. I needed to remind myself that yes, I do know who I am.
Scoreboard
The other day, I went to my future cousin-in-law’s hockey game. In the beginning, there was an undeniable air of excitement, hope, anticipation, which was quickly dampened when the other team scored within 5 minutes of the puck drop. The cheering continued however, and everyone still had faith.
Our players were smaller, and a little kinder. The other team were gigantic, and refs seemed to think that it was perfectly okay if they let a little jabbing, tripping, and hitting from behind slide by unnoticed. Eventually, the score rose higher and higher, each goal in favor of the opposition.
But our team kept going. They pushed back, and they skated hard, ignored the unfair calls, and refused to play down to the level of their opponents. And finally, they did get a goal. it wasn’t beautiful, and it seemed like nothing compared to the 4 on the other side of the scoreboard. But it was goal. It was a small victory, and they had fought hard to get there.
And our fans were encouraging and hollering and clapping and kept on hoping. As the game wore on, most gave up. And then everyone was yelling about what they thought the team should be doing, and could be doing, and trying to rationalize why the game wasn’t going the way they thought it should be.
And in the end, the scoreboard read 5 – 1. And if anyone had come in to the arena at the moment, that is all they would have seen. The end result. A loss in their eyes.
They wouldn’t have seen how hard they fought back, how hard they tried. They wouldn’t have seen the little victories, or how they overcame the smaller things that were thrown in their way. They wouldn’t have known that half the team was sick, and still trying their very best. They wouldn’t have seen the events that led up to that end, or how they got there. Some would call those things excuses, some would call them reasons. But nevertheless, they would have judged, and they wouldn’t have seen or understood the whole story.
And it occurred to me then, how much life is like a hockey game.
When this all comes out, I know that it will be seen as a cliche, or a shock, or maybe even a little hypocritical. And people will see the end result, and how I’ve deal with things. They will judge without really knowing. Without really understanding. And they will try and tell me how I could’ve, how I should’ve, how they would’ve.
But at the end of the day, you come to realize that you are lucky, you are privileged, you are blessed. Because everything truly does happen for a reason, and eventually you will see it all unfold right in front of you. And so will those fans who never fail to show up for the next game – cheering, hoping, and knowing that you have won. Those people in your life who have always understood and supported you, and who can appreciate that sometimes a supposed loss is really a victory.
Our players were smaller, and a little kinder. The other team were gigantic, and refs seemed to think that it was perfectly okay if they let a little jabbing, tripping, and hitting from behind slide by unnoticed. Eventually, the score rose higher and higher, each goal in favor of the opposition.
But our team kept going. They pushed back, and they skated hard, ignored the unfair calls, and refused to play down to the level of their opponents. And finally, they did get a goal. it wasn’t beautiful, and it seemed like nothing compared to the 4 on the other side of the scoreboard. But it was goal. It was a small victory, and they had fought hard to get there.
And our fans were encouraging and hollering and clapping and kept on hoping. As the game wore on, most gave up. And then everyone was yelling about what they thought the team should be doing, and could be doing, and trying to rationalize why the game wasn’t going the way they thought it should be.
And in the end, the scoreboard read 5 – 1. And if anyone had come in to the arena at the moment, that is all they would have seen. The end result. A loss in their eyes.
They wouldn’t have seen how hard they fought back, how hard they tried. They wouldn’t have seen the little victories, or how they overcame the smaller things that were thrown in their way. They wouldn’t have known that half the team was sick, and still trying their very best. They wouldn’t have seen the events that led up to that end, or how they got there. Some would call those things excuses, some would call them reasons. But nevertheless, they would have judged, and they wouldn’t have seen or understood the whole story.
And it occurred to me then, how much life is like a hockey game.
When this all comes out, I know that it will be seen as a cliche, or a shock, or maybe even a little hypocritical. And people will see the end result, and how I’ve deal with things. They will judge without really knowing. Without really understanding. And they will try and tell me how I could’ve, how I should’ve, how they would’ve.
But at the end of the day, you come to realize that you are lucky, you are privileged, you are blessed. Because everything truly does happen for a reason, and eventually you will see it all unfold right in front of you. And so will those fans who never fail to show up for the next game – cheering, hoping, and knowing that you have won. Those people in your life who have always understood and supported you, and who can appreciate that sometimes a supposed loss is really a victory.
A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall
There comes a time when you realize that your life is about to alter in unimagined ways.
Whether you’re ready or not, you have your choices, your options, your decisions.
And in the end, the only option is courage. You’ve got to ignore the doubt, questions, fear and the realization that you are completely overwhelmed, which tends to creep up on you when you start over-thinking it.
All you can do is to fiercely stay true to the belief that, in the end, everything will work out.
It just has to. . .
And so you set out, with determination; caring not what others might try to say or do to influence or guilt.
One day at a time.
You’re stronger than you thought you were. And you’ll be just fine.
Whether you’re ready or not, you have your choices, your options, your decisions.
And in the end, the only option is courage. You’ve got to ignore the doubt, questions, fear and the realization that you are completely overwhelmed, which tends to creep up on you when you start over-thinking it.
All you can do is to fiercely stay true to the belief that, in the end, everything will work out.
It just has to. . .
And so you set out, with determination; caring not what others might try to say or do to influence or guilt.
One day at a time.
You’re stronger than you thought you were. And you’ll be just fine.
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