What are you thinking she asks?
There is no answer. Only the silence that she has now come to know.
What happened to all the words?
It seems they were ripped violently from this plane
only to be absorbed by black matter that will never let them go.
Where is the laughter? Why has it died away? Were there no watering holes to fuel it’s liquid needs?
What of the tears?
They have dried and formed small hills of salt on the plains of her existence.
Where is the proof of lovely times past?
It has disappeared like invisible ink. Only to be seen again when acidic juice falls upon the pages. Revealing what was but is no longer.
What of the heart?
It wills upon itself scar tissue, in the hope of covering open wounds.
But it wasn’t all bad. Right?
Moving is such tedious work. However, now and again you’ll find something worth looking at whilst packing.
This afternoon I found old pictures of my family.
It’s odd to think that at one time we all lived under one roof and called this place home. We were a unit – a whole.
How strange to think that at one time my parents were married and that I shared a bathroom with an older sister. It was a simpler time in some ways. I knew what to expect on a daily basis. I knew that when I woke every morning that I would do so to a house that was bustling with life, routine, laughter, wonderful pets and of course love.
When did everything change? How have the years passed so rapidly? When did i become an adult with adult responsibilities?
Time is strange, it usually feels as if it’s passing much too quickly. Yet it’s always the same.
There are moments, when I desperately long to recapture my youth. I want to sit quietly on a Saturday morning eating Apple Jacks while watching The Banana Splits on a great behemoth of a television. I long for the sweetness of our family dog and cats. I desire the simplicity that was childhood, even though at the time, it seemed anything but simplistic.
But don’t we all now and again?
So, I allow myself a bit of dwelling, and then I pull myself out of the reverie, with the thought that yes, sometimes being an adult is difficult. Then I walk to the kitchen, find a bit of cookie dough and eat it for dinner (something I would never have been allowed to do as a child). And once again all is right with the world.
I know quite a bit.
I listen and take in (to some surprise) what most people say. Intimates, acquaintances and strangers alike. It’s simply a ‘thing’ with me. I also tend to remember what is said, in detail. Another oddity, but quite true.
So, with that qualifier here is my question – is it important to press a matter when you know you’re right?
Should one let go even though they’re quite sure of what they’re speaking about if another simply refuses to listen or believe?
When does being right become detrimental to relationships, life, love and perhaps even sanity?
Most who know me will tell you that I am a ‘know it all’. And, it’s quite true. I’m the first to admit this. I’m also quite opinionated as well (this is rhetorical, so if you know me, there is NO need for response, capiche?). But, my opinions stem from moments of truth, moral responsibility and particularly situations where dire consequences may come to play. It’s my personality. So sue me (okay, don’t really).
I am passionate, compassionate, outspoken and stubborn. All rolled up in a sweet flaky pastry shell.
Huh, am I making any sense?
At this point you’re more than likely trying to figure out what the point or moral of the story is. Right? Well, there truly isn’t one. I believe I am simply trying to put something into perspective within my mind and soul. And, of course, I would like to ultimately find the answer of how to let things go.
I am self-satisfied!
I awoke this morning to a feeling of utter accomplishment
Not just the ordinary, something good happened, kind of happy.
Instead, a feeling that comes only from loving oneself and the understanding that
you’re on the right path.
There’s something jubilant that bubbles up from the soul.
It effervesces and attempts to escape through my pores.
A delightful excitement about the future – a knowing that one’s life is about
to burst open with flavor, like a crackling pop rock on the tongue.
Is there more than one ‘right way’ to do something?
(I already know the answer but let’s go with this anyway)
I like to be right.
A fact that is somewhat irritating to friends and family.
With the exception of my mother, who believes that she is always right (she’s not).
Which leads me to the above mentioned question.
I have come to the conclusion (an epiphany even) that there is a ‘right’ way to do something and another way to do it.
Basically I am allowing myself to believe that others should be able to do something their way without it being wrong (even though it is).
It seems I am at a bit of a standoff with myself.
Right versus Right (wrong).
The trick is to not care and simply enjoy the differences. Right?
It is a place where we all must go alone.
Where we deal with loss without encumbrance’s and outside noise.
Where we lay ourselves down on a bed of soft, pink, sand and let the ocean of salt water tears wash over us.
Cleansing our souls and purifying our minds.
It is a secret place that can only be found when ones heart is truly feeling and open.
Vulnerability is a requirement, as is humility and gentle compassion for one’s self.
It’s where you go to make things right.
So that you may, in the future, walk in the land of love once again.
The secrets whispered through moist, teary, lips will float forever in this land.
And the word “almost” is the sentry…
(an older piece written in August of 2008)