A thousand years, by anyone
When I moved into this place, I thought the back room would be a pool room. My table needs love I cannot afford so I did the sensible thing and set it up as a den. I haven't turned the television on since the NCSU-UNC game (the first night Fi was back in my life). The inhabitants of the room matter (books and family memories) but feel a bit disconnected, missing the careful cohesion of time and room to grow I seek.
I had no idea I'd end spending so much time here, writing and listening to music. Perhaps I needed a writing room? And a screened in porch just off the patio doors...
I yearn to make it the coziest of spaces - a space where music and words happen - alone and with others. A place where life happens, where love grows.
And that's the first solid future state dream I've had in a long time that wasn't health related. Its taken a little over a year. Trauma, much?
I bought a hoodie at the Jewel show the other night - because it was rose pink and cozy and I admire how she uses the simples of words to say the biggest things (which I think only really works because of her voice) and because I fell in love with her music while falling in love with you. I look forward to the times I eye it with a smile and decide to pull it around me, close and safe (more often than not).
And I wonder at the peace I've found tonight. Its taken a few weeks since all the things happened. I yearn to tell you about them. I think you'd get it. I know you would. I don't want to tell you til you're in a place to share.
Somehow, I trust we'll be in that place again. I cannot imagine how, cannot fathom the shape of it, except that is seems the right course of things.
Patience.
And dreams.
I have new dreams.
I dream my son and I will have a less cautious relationship. We used to be the best of buds, so close I worried how he would handle the seperation age demands. We didn't handle it well. My thought in the hospital was that I hoped the experience helped bring us closer together. So far, its been jagged and honest.
I'd say the same was true of mom and I. I adore where we are now. We have an ease together we haven't had in a long time. I love her too much to imagine a world where she isn't just down the road. And I'm practical enough to know its coming. I admire her, at 74 she works harder and more consistently than most. She keeps growing as a human (I'll never forget her doing a a backbend pose just to see if she could). And she never forgets to love. I hope the same can be said of me at her age.
Perhaps, for now, while my sister is sober, we are pals of a sort. I am trying to focus on being present with her. It is hard, her life makes me want to crawl out of my skin, and that's when I can let go of the anger. None-the-less, I showed up and that seems to have mattered. And she seems committed to taking her well-being seriously. I won't say that gives me hope less its misinterpreted but it does... she's coming to terms with her reality and that sucks. The sooner she does though, the better off she'll be.
I don't know where things are going with Victor and I. We're both hanging in there. It ain't easy. In the long run, I suspect it will be okay. Sooner or later, and slowly, I'll settle into the new way of things. I'll let go of my resentments and focus on the love...that's all that's ever really mattered.
This year I've had dinner with Steph's father and her best friend from middle-school father and at least one massage with her other best friend - those odd connections of our lives. She's accepted the love of her life into her heart after 20+ years and lord knows what comes next.
I'm writing all of this as a part of healing me. This last year almost destroyed me. I wanted so much to be smart when I should've stuck to the tenets that have always worked. Perhaps I needed the growth? eh... that rings false-ish. I mean, we always need growth.
(Let tonight be a lesson to you, m'dear... sometimes we really do have to turn it all off to find outselves.)
I should've said no to Bryan the first time he flaked out. Full stop.
I should've said no to CW the first time he flaked out. Full stop.
My instincts are damned good.
And every single one of them is screaming at me to stand by you, even the angry, wounded, skeptical ones.
And yet, I've never regretted saying yes to Victor when he's flaked out. Nor Stephanie, nor Kelli, nor Joe, nor John, nor Randy - perhaps I shouldn't put my financial well-being is on the line. . That's where I went wrong.
Almost, at times, the fool.
The fool is one of the most powerful cards in tarot, in life - every society has a version. much as every society has a version of "do unto others". I'm okay with being a fool.
And more than anything, I dream of roadtripping with a cute guy. I want the forgotten roads and endless asphalt and Chick-Filets and Gatorade at a proper truck stop and running serendipitous asides and careful relaxation and new television and music for all the night and touching for even longer. Maybe I could skip harrowing mountain roads but if enduring them with you means being with you, I'll take my Benedryl and hope for the best.
I'll brace for ice machines on the wrong floor and careful tournaments that make my arches ache and late night hugs in a parking lot and the careful selection of restaurants with the only man ever thoughful enough to do half the work for me and the beauty of greyhounds on the track and the perfection of last minute roulette bids and gentle time-outs that sometimes mock, sometimes goad and are always intertwined with trust.
I want the new of ancient forests and the boring routine of hauling luggage into a new room and endless key cards carelessly saved for a 'remember when' moment. I'll take you.... and melt into us when you take me. And I'll cry for the beauty and I'll cry for the frustration and in the morning, I'll wake with a Scarlett worthy smile.