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Mirrors and Windows

I’m standing there in the mirror replaying those moments I can’t contain the emotions I feel. It’s awkward crying at yourself watching your face change from peaceful to struggling and this quiet all knowing voice in my head said, it’s not a race. It’s a journey and the journey of this you – this passionate kind beautiful patient you has really only just begun.

A little over a year ago I started writing to my dad. We had been estranged since I was in my early 20’s. Our relationship was filled with should haves, could haves, wanted to and didn’t. There were a couple of things that led up to the moment of my reaching out but the primary reason was that I realized I could never have an open, loving, trusting relationship with any man until I had one with the most important man in my life. It took him a while to come around – close to four months or so. I have asked to see him but he just isn’t there, I don’t know if he ever will be and that’s ok. So we write letters and I think of him often and I fully accept that this is what he is willing and capable of giving and for that I am so grateful.

So why did I find myself going through the emotions in the mirror and wishing I could just turn my feelings off?  There’s always questions when it starts….Why are we drawn to the people we’re drawn to? What makes one person attracted to another and not some? Is it chemical? Is it mystical? There’s a song by the xx, they say…”I’ve been a romantic for so long, all I’ve ever had are love songs”…I always come back to those moments, they fill my dreams and all of it brings me right back to this mirror.   So, there’s a hint of longing in my eyes..and although I’ll turn on the smile and face the day, these windows will reflect my soul.

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Mothers Day

I have furry children.

When I was younger I would say I didn’t want kids.  I didn’t like kids.  I would say…I might as well have one, if I’m going to suffer each month as dramatically as I do, I might as well go through the gift of childbirth at least once.  So still, it hasn’t happened and I wonder now if it ever will.  A while back, I thought of doing it on my own, about finding an agency, making a choice, engineering the perfect child.  But I realized, I don’t want to do it alone.  If I’m destined to have a child, I will wait until I find love and if he and I are lucky enough to be blessed with a child, then it will be.  I don’t think about it that much really, even on mothers day.  But for some reason, this year is different.

How do we choose who we love?  Why do some people appeal to us more than others?  Why are we willing to give ourselves to some and not others?  Why don’t we understand the consequences of the choices we make?  I could hear them talking in the hallway, there was something wrong, why wasn’t I at the hospital.  I knew there had to be something wrong, because I never knew he was there, until a day before he wasn’t.

And so I close this Mothers’ Day knowing that everything that has happened is part of something bigger.  Something so much bigger than all of this and it will be so worth it when it comes.

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Two trees

She would stare blankly out the window contemplating the pair of trees in the neighbors yard as he droned on.  His drunken animation amplified by the sound of coffee cup on saucer. Boys only want one thing – they’ll try to get you alone, they’ll touch you. Her mother sat at the other side of the table adding nothing to the conversation.

I want to be one of those trees she said to herself – they swayed in the wind – a light breeze would make them dance and in the worst of storms they would only bend. She nodded without thinking unaware that the words were sinking in and taking over in a way she wouldn’t discover for years.

She was smart and yet so stupid at the same time. She liked them all, they could take her away- she was willing to pay the price with that one thing, they wouldn’t just use her and throw her away.  He asked me to go to his hockey game, he called to go to the roller rink and he held my hand, he came to watch me play softball, he walked me to the bus when I got hurt in the soccer game.

When the phone rang she wasn’t home or she couldn’t come to the phone.  She was never allowed to answer. So much everything…wake up sleeping beauty, water thrown.  Stop mumbling, slow down, shoulders back.  Shoe shine, clean your room, take a bath, take another bath, what you believe isn’t real. Nowhere was safe, accusations, beatings, you’re a Lye-errr.  Screaming so no one could hear.  I am a good person.  Why is this happening….it’s Wednesday….

Anger follows the lost truth, monster, scratching burning, banging – always the face – wishing for the scars to show, this is what I’m living, this is what I’m wearing. Feelings were numbed and buried deep beneath 100 pounds of armor. And she let them touch her without knowing knowing how to touch. Hoping for nothing and wanting it all.  She floated through circles and glass hallways, over bridges and under stars, climbed roofs and slid down skree.

Karma’s debt paid, the armor’s been shed. Now she watches the trees and knows that love can be pure and beautiful and free.  The echoes of those lessons fade and new truths embraced.