SAD
My trip a few weeks back to Kansas City ended up being quite the road trip down memory lane. Before I left town, I went through a gigantic box of cassette tapes that had been living in my garage since 2008 and in a pod in Austin since 2006. I love how five years or more can pass and yet the moment the first few notes of a song start in, every word and inflection comes rushing back.
One tape in particular has been haunting me since I got back - The Indigo Girls/Rites of Passage. Funny how I'd forgotten how much this album meant to me, then and now. Doug and I had known each other for a few years already and we were hanging out before he moved to Seattle to hook up with Tom and Scott. I'm pretty sure this tape contributed to my falling for him. I mean, what guy did I know that listened to the Indigo Girls and had their newest tape before me? Since that trip, I've listened to little else in my car. I switch over to the radio but nothing moves me the way their harmonies do and I keep coming back to that.
I also took a much needed and long overdue trip to visit my sis and family in Seattle last weekend. I didn't do anything touristy, I simply hung out and enjoyed every minute of being with them. From the "crack coffee" that she makes, to face to face scrabble games with her and mom, to doing laundry, playing pictionary with the whole family and attending my nephews winter concert, it was all perfection. It's been five years since my last visit and five years before that since my first visit. I don't want another five years to go by before I make it back there.
I left Seattle with a stronger sense of family than I have felt since Doug died. I also had these feelings of inspiration that have all but left me since my return home. Within the first 24 hours I was back to my ritual of driving straight home, pouring a drink, and curling up in bed with a movie. I'm allowing the loneliness to consume me and there doesn't seem to be much I can do about it. The tears are coming constantly of late. There is a sense of loss that seems to hang over me like pigpens cloud of dirt. I can shake it off for a little while, but it inevitably comes back once I'm alone. I keep telling myself it's a combination of seasonal affective disorder, the cold weather and the snow, but I wonder . . .
Sunday marks the 9th anniversary of losing Doug and I made plans to spend the day with friends. I've felt like both mom and Doug are closer than ever lately. I like that feeling. I feel lost without them.
One tape in particular has been haunting me since I got back - The Indigo Girls/Rites of Passage. Funny how I'd forgotten how much this album meant to me, then and now. Doug and I had known each other for a few years already and we were hanging out before he moved to Seattle to hook up with Tom and Scott. I'm pretty sure this tape contributed to my falling for him. I mean, what guy did I know that listened to the Indigo Girls and had their newest tape before me? Since that trip, I've listened to little else in my car. I switch over to the radio but nothing moves me the way their harmonies do and I keep coming back to that.
I also took a much needed and long overdue trip to visit my sis and family in Seattle last weekend. I didn't do anything touristy, I simply hung out and enjoyed every minute of being with them. From the "crack coffee" that she makes, to face to face scrabble games with her and mom, to doing laundry, playing pictionary with the whole family and attending my nephews winter concert, it was all perfection. It's been five years since my last visit and five years before that since my first visit. I don't want another five years to go by before I make it back there.
I left Seattle with a stronger sense of family than I have felt since Doug died. I also had these feelings of inspiration that have all but left me since my return home. Within the first 24 hours I was back to my ritual of driving straight home, pouring a drink, and curling up in bed with a movie. I'm allowing the loneliness to consume me and there doesn't seem to be much I can do about it. The tears are coming constantly of late. There is a sense of loss that seems to hang over me like pigpens cloud of dirt. I can shake it off for a little while, but it inevitably comes back once I'm alone. I keep telling myself it's a combination of seasonal affective disorder, the cold weather and the snow, but I wonder . . .
Sunday marks the 9th anniversary of losing Doug and I made plans to spend the day with friends. I've felt like both mom and Doug are closer than ever lately. I like that feeling. I feel lost without them.