(no subject)
sometimes my heart feels so heavy i imagine it's going to just break away from the spot where it sits in my chest, crashing through my stomach and my intestine and uterus.
then i can slowly bleed out from the inside.
*******************
in my mind's eye i can see a young man singing puff the magic dragon to his daughter; she cries at the end when puff goes away so he writes a couple extra verses and draws her pictures of a dragon on yellow ruled paper, changing the ending of the song to boast of a joyous reunion with jackie paper.
twenty some odd years later, he asks her about her knees. She says they still suck, and that she has some appointments lined up with some surgeons over the next month to figure out what exactly can be done about them, and he falls silent. guilt and fear and disapproval hang between them.
she sits across him in a greek restaurant in portland, and realizes he probably won't be at her wedding. If she has children they probably won't know him. Even as he is clearly enjoying his golden years, she is taken aback by how small he looks lately.
I wonder how this got this way, and I wonder if there's any way I can fix it. Therapy has allowed me to come to terms with the fact that maybe the things that happened won't be set right, and that maybe the best thing to do is just create new things for us as we move forward, but it's difficult, and time is short, and despite all my efforts to create something new the distance blocks us even after the physical one is temporarily overcome.
The thought occurred to me that maybe i would have puff the magic dragon be the song i played for our father daughter dance, but i don't think that's going to happen soon enough.
***********
Portland is interesting. It's clean and pretty and the bridges and rivers are cool to look at, there's a light rail transit system that appears to run on electricity and lesbian couples with mohawks and parents with crayola colored hair jogging while pushing their infants in strollers ahead of them.
I think T. would like it there, so much that I could practically see him taking his routine run down the street, stopping for a quick break near the city center and then continuing on his way.
Portland, however, is not a city I could live in.
************
In my mind's eye I'm treading in a pool. It's starting to get cold and dark and the water is turning slightly scary as water will do after a while, yet still I tread, hoping that maybe i just got here too early, when clearly it's already too late.
then i can slowly bleed out from the inside.
*******************
in my mind's eye i can see a young man singing puff the magic dragon to his daughter; she cries at the end when puff goes away so he writes a couple extra verses and draws her pictures of a dragon on yellow ruled paper, changing the ending of the song to boast of a joyous reunion with jackie paper.
twenty some odd years later, he asks her about her knees. She says they still suck, and that she has some appointments lined up with some surgeons over the next month to figure out what exactly can be done about them, and he falls silent. guilt and fear and disapproval hang between them.
she sits across him in a greek restaurant in portland, and realizes he probably won't be at her wedding. If she has children they probably won't know him. Even as he is clearly enjoying his golden years, she is taken aback by how small he looks lately.
I wonder how this got this way, and I wonder if there's any way I can fix it. Therapy has allowed me to come to terms with the fact that maybe the things that happened won't be set right, and that maybe the best thing to do is just create new things for us as we move forward, but it's difficult, and time is short, and despite all my efforts to create something new the distance blocks us even after the physical one is temporarily overcome.
The thought occurred to me that maybe i would have puff the magic dragon be the song i played for our father daughter dance, but i don't think that's going to happen soon enough.
***********
Portland is interesting. It's clean and pretty and the bridges and rivers are cool to look at, there's a light rail transit system that appears to run on electricity and lesbian couples with mohawks and parents with crayola colored hair jogging while pushing their infants in strollers ahead of them.
I think T. would like it there, so much that I could practically see him taking his routine run down the street, stopping for a quick break near the city center and then continuing on his way.
Portland, however, is not a city I could live in.
************
In my mind's eye I'm treading in a pool. It's starting to get cold and dark and the water is turning slightly scary as water will do after a while, yet still I tread, hoping that maybe i just got here too early, when clearly it's already too late.