(no subject)
i cannot expect to find the happiness i crave anyplace but in myself. i know there's joy in solitude, so why can't i find it? oh, to be able to let everything go and be free of longing, jealousy, and loneliness. to embrace every morning and thank god for planting me amidst the freshness and zest of this terribly exhilarating journey. this summer is a bridge of sorts between then and now. i can't expect anyone to fix me, or at least the little things that seem to be going wrong in my life. i can't expect that anyone would even want to hear about them. my eyes are closed and i am praying for every ounce of strength to let go of bitterness and uncertainty. i am praying for the ability to embrace myself for who i am and to let nothing and nobody affect the confidence and the poise that i possess. i am praying for humility, for the power to let go of my pride and admit when i'm wrong, but also for the strength to stand up for myself when others are too proud or too selfish. i can't be the only one that's wrong all the time. i can't be the only one that has to say i'm sorry. we all fuck things up, and all i could ask for is the grace to realize when i'm the cause.
today mr b. and i tried playing this game called sequence. it didn't work out so well since neither of us knew the rules. we were talking about france, and the poor dear forgets that he's already asked me things some ten or twelve times, but i answer as though it were the first. he asks when i'm leaving and if i'm going alone and what my parents think. he smiled and blinked at me after a few moments and said he was proud of me. my heart swelled up so much i thought it would burst and i would float out of the house in a flood of contentment. being with him as he wrestles with legs that don't work all the time and a failing memory, i realize what a joy having full use of my faculties truly is, and how in the twilight of life little things don't matter anymore. just family and people that love you. everyday he asks me when his wife is coming home, and he says he misses her. they've been married for 66 years, and i can see that he's lonely and a little lost without her. i tell him all the time that i hope to be as lucky as he is, and find somebody who will love me for that long. he looks at me and smiles and says, "oh honey, you will." i can't boast of being so sure.
the sun is making an effort to shake these clouds. maybe tomorrow it will be sunny.
today mr b. and i tried playing this game called sequence. it didn't work out so well since neither of us knew the rules. we were talking about france, and the poor dear forgets that he's already asked me things some ten or twelve times, but i answer as though it were the first. he asks when i'm leaving and if i'm going alone and what my parents think. he smiled and blinked at me after a few moments and said he was proud of me. my heart swelled up so much i thought it would burst and i would float out of the house in a flood of contentment. being with him as he wrestles with legs that don't work all the time and a failing memory, i realize what a joy having full use of my faculties truly is, and how in the twilight of life little things don't matter anymore. just family and people that love you. everyday he asks me when his wife is coming home, and he says he misses her. they've been married for 66 years, and i can see that he's lonely and a little lost without her. i tell him all the time that i hope to be as lucky as he is, and find somebody who will love me for that long. he looks at me and smiles and says, "oh honey, you will." i can't boast of being so sure.
the sun is making an effort to shake these clouds. maybe tomorrow it will be sunny.