Echoes

It was time to leave the real world behind for awhile.  At least this was her intention as she sat down to write.  It was time to escape into her world of imagination-of fantasy.  Now is when that song pops into her head.  Willy Wonka and all those Gobstoppers!  Not to mention the little men who help run the factory.  Hmmm…Umpalumpas!  Oh God she was straying!

Well…what is the subject for tonight?

Her thoughts turned a little more melancholic as she sat thinking of Christmas seasons from years ago.  It has always been her favorite season of the year but not these last three years. There was and has been too much sadness in her life during these last few years.  When she stopped to think about it-it only brought tears to her eyes and made her heart ache almost beyond tolerance.  She wanted to forget everything and anything but that was impossible.  The sadness within her made her who she was-how can she be anyone else?

The moments have been filled with dark and light thoughts-sometimes gray ones. Then there were those very bright moments when she felt loved and special. Those moments have far outweighed the rest. These were the moments which have been the light at the end of the tunnel-a tunnel she was still traveling through.

She stopped her writing for a short while as she sat and remembered all.  Especially those memories filled with him. His heartbeat, his touch, his laughter-he was the only true love in her life.  Now, he was so far away-her heart broke each time she thought about it.  He was also in the same place.  Plans had been disturbed and side-tracked with things beyond the control of either one of them.  The plans have been revamped-step by step, as he says.  She was always on a see-saw-but always a see-saw filled with love.  He would be home soon-he said so therefore she believes.  She has to believe-it is what is left. He made her believe again…their time was coming.

Sighing heavily she went back to her writing-then she once more-she stopped.

Her mind went back in time to when she was a child.  It was Christmas Eve; the house was dark and warm.  She was under the covers anticipating Santa’s visit.  When she saw who actually left her toys on her bed-her small heart just stopped.  Mom and Dad were placing a new doll at the foot of her bed-then they left to leave more toys around the tree.  There was no Santa-it was a harsh reality for such a small child. 

It was then she started to question her faith in the unbelievable-her small world shaken. That particular memory did not make her flinch.  If anything she became more analytical-logical.  That became her shield in life.  She questioned everything! She always found an argument pro or con.  Her Dad always said she should have been an attorney.  She always found an answer.  Not always the best one but it always finished any argument or proved the point she was trying to make.  She laughed out loud.  Gawd those were some arguments they had.  They were just too much alike.  She missed him.

Yes, her parents never held her back.  She learned to respect the point of view of others.  She accepted change-not always easily but she did flow with it.  Mostly, she became an independent spirit.  She was always the strange one-her family called her the “rebel”-she wasn’t but that is the way it fell in her life.  Wild child is really what she was underneath all the outer pinning of what society would call proper. 

Even the broken nose a few years later resulting from a misunderstanding-was hidden by the proper phrases.

Wow, memory lane time.  She had to try to write-try to get her stride back. The keystrokes were swift but still she deleted all she wrote.  There was a missing spirit in her words.

All round the edge of her mind were echoes of past experiences, memories, wants-desires.  Just on the edge-waiting to come in from the shadows.  Dark things, nasty things then there were those that were sprinkled with light and love.  These were the ones she desperately wanted to come back to her.  It was difficult-beyond difficult.

They came back in pieces-like her writing. Fragmented; lacking substance-filled with fear or filled with wonder which quickly evaporates upon the light of day.  She felt she needed to redeem herself but the cost was high-maybe too high.  She felt she always had a gun to her head.  One wrong move and her existence would be wiped away.

She remembers well other times in the past feeling like this.  She remembers the loss, the loneliness.  It was the darkness that she could not escape then. Her soul was in constant pain-worse she lost the desire to live.  She did not want to visit that dark place again.  She was nearly lost-swallowed whole.

Echoes, that is all. Just echoes of things past and no shade of the future to be seen. These shades had life only if she allowed them to interfere with her present. The one echo-the only echo she needed was the one that lit the end of the tunnel.

She tried once again but it was useless. Her concentration was lost for the moment.  She needed to make a decision and chose a path; she can’t be a victim anymore.  She shut down the laptop.  She needed to clear her mind.  At least-for the moment, she is walking away from the shades of the past which still echoed in her mind.

©2011 december/cb

Diary Date November 6

The day started out easy enough.  The rain woke me with its incessant beating against my bedroom window.  It is just another day of taking one breath after another-not life.  I feel the warmth of my body but there is no warmth beside me.  I am alone.

The central heat kicked in again.  It tells me that the night was chilly enough for the computer to know that the humans within the house would be cold.  Imagine that!  I wonder if we would survive without the computers in our lives.  They seem to guide our daily moments in our lives.  Well, at least in mine it does.  Would I be able to survive without it?  I wonder…

With that thought in mind, I rose into the slightly cool air and proceeded to dress.  It helped to feel the cool.  At least, the lethargy that gets to me everyday seems to leave me-if at least for a few moments.  If I were to be honest with myself, it is not lethargy-it is depression. 

There was a time in my life where I just floated along in life.  It did not matter how I did things.  I always managed to get by.  I was able to help others because it came easy to me.  I could find what I needed-it seemed that all I needed to do was just reach out and there it was.  These days it does not happen as often.  Maybe, just maybe, I have stopped believing in happy endings.   Maybe I have lost control of my own destiny.

I am just a vessel without direction.  There was no need to hurry.  No place to be, no appointments-worse-no one to be with.  These days are becoming a way of life now. 

©2011 november/cb

Sand and Fog

I am walking on sand with an uneven gait. I feel the fog rolling around me; surrounding me-touching me with its chill…. 

If it’s not broke…don’t fix it.  This is something that I have heard all my life.  Yet, I will try to fix things that maybe should just be left alone.  I am sure that there are good reasons for it-but at the moment they simply evade me.  This thought has been with me for awhile now.

Changes have hit me lately and they are still changing around me-inside me.  Life kicking me in the ass or maybe it was just the simple fact that I had the wrong friend.  I think that is more it than anything else.  I do have to chuckle a little-I remember being a judgmental bitch at one point in my life.  Life turned around and did the same to me by another.  The cycle will not end-it will keep going until lessons are learned.  My lesson was learned a long time ago but karma still had some life left for me.  Hopefully this is the last of it.  I have to learn not to trust; maybe that will save some grief.   

Today I was asked a question. It killed me and needless to say, it also blurred my vision as tears filled my eyes.  Mom is not well and my daughter sees this as well.  She asked if we would be homeless if grandma died.  My family is not kind-they see only the money that will be theirs when mom passes on.  We have continued to live with Mom since Dad’s death.  I told her not to worry; when the time comes things will be as they are supposed to be.  Well at least that is my hope.  I can’t tell her that I am also very worried about this.  Now is not the time for changes; our protection died with my Father.  These days it is I who is protecting Mom; she is fading fast.

Someone once told me that his family had the trappings of wealth yet when anyone looked deeper-the reality is very different.  People see what they want to see and place their expectations upon that person.  When I look at things around me I remember that statement and wonder if my reality is what people see or imagine. 

…I am cold and I cannot get warm.   I hear the sounds of the waves crashing on the rocks below.  The lonely sound of the foghorn cuts through the fog.  It does little to soothe my soul.

 © july 4 2011/cb

Diary date November 7:

It’s Mom’s birthday and she wants to forget.  Forget that she had a life and that she still has one.  Forget the 60 years or so of marriage which is now dead and buried with Dad.  Forget the family she raised, cried over and sent onward into adulthood.  Yes, she wants to forget.

She has been in tears, semi-tears-silent sobs.  I am helpless in this as there is nothing I can do to make her feel better.  Celebrating her wonder-filled life has no impact on her.  The worst thing-not one person has even called her to even say hello!

Mom died the day Dad died.  She has become a walking zombie.  The worse thing is that her precious children-the favorite ones-have her buried in life.  They come by the house and leave with things.  Taking without asking or taking with pressure.  Mom is not strong enough to say no.  She thinks that if she says no...they will not come again. 

The truth is that they will not come anyway.  It is an obligation.  Someone once asked me why I stayed.  I am not her favorite-I was Dad’s.  I have put up with a lot of meanness and petty anger from her.  In a way-I am Cinderella in my own parent’s home.

I stay because she needs me...and she does not realize it.

Happy Birthday Mom...i know you cannot hear me nor want to but Happy Birthday.

© 2010 NOV 7/cb