more thoughts...
The room is filled with the sounds of Chopin. That ever classic trill and upbeat challenging process for a 10 year old to begin to syncopate. The office seems more like a concert hall as the beating of keyboards meet the rythm of the melodic tones creeping up the stairs.
That would be the office today. My feet freezing as my boss' wife forced him to turn on the air conditioning today. I look outside and the trees wavering tangled with the chill running up my legs give a false sense of a beautiful day. I know that if I put my hand to the glass I will feel nothing but the sweltering heat beating through, and at this point that may be what I'm yearning. A change of pace. More warmth in my life when for a while it was here, and now gone.
I adore the moments spent in unexpected waiting. Waiting on a friend to come home, while sitting with his mother, father, brother, and another friend over dinner in your bathing suits, discussing nothing serious, but the inconsequential. Inconsequentially, your phone rings, and its more of your friends outside, and the family is here. Not the friend you came to see, but now there are five of you here and the pool is open. I dove in the pool and remembered how much I love the cold touch of the water. How many years I'd spend hours in the pools of Montclair, until my skin was like a raisin and the back of my neck black from the tan the sun gave me. I'd walk home the 2 blocks, my eyes red and I ready to hang out with the friends who weren't in my camp. Then the days when the pool was a mile and a half hike across camp. We'd run it so we wouldn't be late for lifeguarding or life saving or swimming or free swimming or whatever it was we were doing those weeks in the DelMarVa valley.
We'd raise sail on our 28' regatta and prepare to race. The winds were perfect for this sort of act. Our captain a young 17 year old eagle scout from up north. Trying to course out the shortest distance to beat the other sailboats to the island were we'd spend the next nights. I remember how we'd all lean the boat one way to cut the wind for the power we could, holding out sail tight to have the wind give us its best. I remember how you'd never have your hands in your pockets for fear of being lost at sea. And though we were only between the states, and an easy swim from land, that fear was as serious as the attack of the boombar.
I remember when I was too young to be hurt by words of serious matter. Because you liked someone it wasn't going to hurt as much as "you're a stinkiepants." I remember when you'd hear "I love you" and it was for real. You said it with a kiss as you left the house headed for the bus because you know you'd come home and he'd still be there. And one day you'd come home and he'd be waiting because he wasn't going to the hospital without saying "I love you" one last time. Because he knew that tomorrow might not come. And you knew tomorrow was only a day away. And I remember when I found my uncle laying on the floor and too weak to call out, but I'd help him back up and he'd say don't tell your mom because he knew she'd freak out. And when you see the pain a man feels and he tells you to keep it secret thats when it is real. You're sharing in his secret as his clock ticks another shot of morphine. He was going to not be here one day, and he knew it, you knew it, and we all knew it. But this time instead of being to young to know that tomorrow isn't promised, you remind your little sister that tomorrow is only a day away. Because she was smacked in the face by the notion that tomorrow doesn't always come when she was 6 months 19 days old. When she was still a princess, her king was taken home. And the last time I cried was when his hand found my face. Not again til my family left for Florida. And then the next time was at the funeral of the friend who died too young. And then in the car of a friend. And each time I remember all the times I've been told it's ok for boys to cry.
And all I can think of is "do you want me to give you a reason to cry?"
And you did. And I didn't cry when you did.
Now I sit here with my hand against the window lost in the monotony of my daily life trying to find the next break for something different. I want to go back to a mindset that I love you can never hurt because it means that you'll do anything for that person and they'll do it for you and even if you have to let them go it's because you love them.
I have a sister, who I spoil as though she's my granddaughter and love as though she was my own. I miss her as though I've been gone for years. I see her a few times a year and she's growing up way too fast. Just the other day she was playing hide and seek with me, Donovan and John. Just the other day we were playing football in the backyard. Just the other day we built her first snowman and I still remember the look on her face as she decided to fall back and make a snow angel.
I remember her first Christmas, and how we had to make it happy and big, and how all the family was there because this was her first Christmas and her father wasn't there, and her mom was on enough medication to quieten an elephant. And that morning with a 10 month, 5 day old Makayla, we ran downstairs to see even the presents that we spent a better part of the night filling the room with. My mom and I trying to get those last minute ones that we didn't want each other to see, with the hope that maybe this year Santa will come again. There were barbies and books, and crayons and clothing and music and laughter and a peaceful cat rolling in wrapping paper and us as aunts and uncles and grandparents for days would walk in with another something except the mention of the remains that sat in a golden urn on the china cabinet. But all around it were Christmas cards and birthday cards and toy trains and angels and a docile cat and a inebriated mother and a worried son and a innocent 10 month old with the most beautiful smile.
And I don't know why I'm going through this because this is just the beginnings of why I love you's hurt so much. These are moments I've never thought back on. These are memories I'd regularly forgot.
And I wonder when someone will ask how I'm doing and care enough to listen...
Because I'm not ok...
That would be the office today. My feet freezing as my boss' wife forced him to turn on the air conditioning today. I look outside and the trees wavering tangled with the chill running up my legs give a false sense of a beautiful day. I know that if I put my hand to the glass I will feel nothing but the sweltering heat beating through, and at this point that may be what I'm yearning. A change of pace. More warmth in my life when for a while it was here, and now gone.
I adore the moments spent in unexpected waiting. Waiting on a friend to come home, while sitting with his mother, father, brother, and another friend over dinner in your bathing suits, discussing nothing serious, but the inconsequential. Inconsequentially, your phone rings, and its more of your friends outside, and the family is here. Not the friend you came to see, but now there are five of you here and the pool is open. I dove in the pool and remembered how much I love the cold touch of the water. How many years I'd spend hours in the pools of Montclair, until my skin was like a raisin and the back of my neck black from the tan the sun gave me. I'd walk home the 2 blocks, my eyes red and I ready to hang out with the friends who weren't in my camp. Then the days when the pool was a mile and a half hike across camp. We'd run it so we wouldn't be late for lifeguarding or life saving or swimming or free swimming or whatever it was we were doing those weeks in the DelMarVa valley.
We'd raise sail on our 28' regatta and prepare to race. The winds were perfect for this sort of act. Our captain a young 17 year old eagle scout from up north. Trying to course out the shortest distance to beat the other sailboats to the island were we'd spend the next nights. I remember how we'd all lean the boat one way to cut the wind for the power we could, holding out sail tight to have the wind give us its best. I remember how you'd never have your hands in your pockets for fear of being lost at sea. And though we were only between the states, and an easy swim from land, that fear was as serious as the attack of the boombar.
I remember when I was too young to be hurt by words of serious matter. Because you liked someone it wasn't going to hurt as much as "you're a stinkiepants." I remember when you'd hear "I love you" and it was for real. You said it with a kiss as you left the house headed for the bus because you know you'd come home and he'd still be there. And one day you'd come home and he'd be waiting because he wasn't going to the hospital without saying "I love you" one last time. Because he knew that tomorrow might not come. And you knew tomorrow was only a day away. And I remember when I found my uncle laying on the floor and too weak to call out, but I'd help him back up and he'd say don't tell your mom because he knew she'd freak out. And when you see the pain a man feels and he tells you to keep it secret thats when it is real. You're sharing in his secret as his clock ticks another shot of morphine. He was going to not be here one day, and he knew it, you knew it, and we all knew it. But this time instead of being to young to know that tomorrow isn't promised, you remind your little sister that tomorrow is only a day away. Because she was smacked in the face by the notion that tomorrow doesn't always come when she was 6 months 19 days old. When she was still a princess, her king was taken home. And the last time I cried was when his hand found my face. Not again til my family left for Florida. And then the next time was at the funeral of the friend who died too young. And then in the car of a friend. And each time I remember all the times I've been told it's ok for boys to cry.
And all I can think of is "do you want me to give you a reason to cry?"
And you did. And I didn't cry when you did.
Now I sit here with my hand against the window lost in the monotony of my daily life trying to find the next break for something different. I want to go back to a mindset that I love you can never hurt because it means that you'll do anything for that person and they'll do it for you and even if you have to let them go it's because you love them.
I have a sister, who I spoil as though she's my granddaughter and love as though she was my own. I miss her as though I've been gone for years. I see her a few times a year and she's growing up way too fast. Just the other day she was playing hide and seek with me, Donovan and John. Just the other day we were playing football in the backyard. Just the other day we built her first snowman and I still remember the look on her face as she decided to fall back and make a snow angel.
I remember her first Christmas, and how we had to make it happy and big, and how all the family was there because this was her first Christmas and her father wasn't there, and her mom was on enough medication to quieten an elephant. And that morning with a 10 month, 5 day old Makayla, we ran downstairs to see even the presents that we spent a better part of the night filling the room with. My mom and I trying to get those last minute ones that we didn't want each other to see, with the hope that maybe this year Santa will come again. There were barbies and books, and crayons and clothing and music and laughter and a peaceful cat rolling in wrapping paper and us as aunts and uncles and grandparents for days would walk in with another something except the mention of the remains that sat in a golden urn on the china cabinet. But all around it were Christmas cards and birthday cards and toy trains and angels and a docile cat and a inebriated mother and a worried son and a innocent 10 month old with the most beautiful smile.
And I don't know why I'm going through this because this is just the beginnings of why I love you's hurt so much. These are moments I've never thought back on. These are memories I'd regularly forgot.
And I wonder when someone will ask how I'm doing and care enough to listen...
Because I'm not ok...