(no subject)
strange lucidity-- should i try to remember every phase and change and stage of my surroundings, or do i let them grow and change the way they are doing so now--morphing in and out of evolving stages of life, that are so defined, to me, as a bed here, a shelf here, another one tossed out on the street. i wander between trying to remember it all--documenting every change and every different arrangement this house and home has taken, clutching at the past and the way things were--and letting life explode into color then die into grey. should i have a list, July 7, 2007, we move the futon from the family room to the living room and the bookshelf to the baby room, August 13, 2007 Afoo packs his things, August 24, 2007 the house is empty, alone without the cpop blasting from dirty speakers in every room. Everything is clean now, with just two remaining members of the clan. gone are the noises and messiness with the accompanied sounds and smells. Its not loneliness, its not nostalgia, its a combination of yearning for a home that is still here and understanding that it will not always be. it is grasping for the past, a stab in the heart, it is trying to take a picture of a child who wont stop moving. it is a child who is growing up too fast, one whose parents love dearly but are standing by to let her take rein of her own life.
because what am i but another person?
born of my mother and father, nourished until i was able to nourish myself, i am organic. when i look down i see meat thighs and legs, organic matter. born into a body over which i have only marginal control, i am just like you just like me. if nothing matters, everything matters. when i die the sheet pulled over my body will have a small mound over my nose, but garen’s will be pointy. i realize that people have been dying since they’ve been living, and i guess everyones O.K with it. I guess i’ll be okay too.
today when i was with friends a brief second of optimism hit me. if i could feel this happy more than once in awhile, i guess that’d be OK.
because what am i but another person?
born of my mother and father, nourished until i was able to nourish myself, i am organic. when i look down i see meat thighs and legs, organic matter. born into a body over which i have only marginal control, i am just like you just like me. if nothing matters, everything matters. when i die the sheet pulled over my body will have a small mound over my nose, but garen’s will be pointy. i realize that people have been dying since they’ve been living, and i guess everyones O.K with it. I guess i’ll be okay too.
today when i was with friends a brief second of optimism hit me. if i could feel this happy more than once in awhile, i guess that’d be OK.