I set out for my run first thing this morning right after walking my dog. My music loaded, I walked between houses to the neighborhood behind mine for a change of pace. The heavy torn clouds covered the whole sky with sunlight trying to break through and if I wasn’t surrounded by palm trees I could almost imagine winter’s first flurries falling from them. I began running to the music through the development each step hitting the pavement to the latin rhythm when I was struck suddenly by a defeating thought. I can’t even pinpoint now as I write this what it was, only that my anticipation of a great run became filled with dread as my own mindscape mirrored that of the sky.
Tears began to rim my eyes as my pace slowed from a jog to barely a walk. I began to head for home, noticing my feet had become as weighted as the clouds above me but then thought what for. To cry? To write? To wallow again in unexplained emotion when the day is so beautiful? Turning myself around, I left the neighborhood of cookie cutter homes with manicured lawns and headed for the street. Placing my ipod in my pocket, I listened instead to the blaring horns of the impatient and the crackling hum running the length of the wires overhead.
As I passed the grocery store, barely 10 AM, I could smell fried chicken and curiously enough Giorgio, the perfume my mother wore when I was in my teens. Well, she didn’t wear Giorgio actually, but the knock off version called Primo. It’s amazing how scents allow you to time travel. I haven’t spoken to my mother in over a decade. Our last exchange was her telling me what a failure I was as a daughter, a sister, a wife, an employee and most of all a mother. I was none of those things…a failure in any of those areas. It was merely something she said to hurt me. It still hurts, especially now when I feel that I have let down everyone close to me and I wonder now if perhaps she was right all along. I disappointed her all my life merely because I was a breathing reminder of the biggest mistake she had ever made in her life. I am sure that if abortions had been legal in 1962, she would have had one instead of me. I almost wish she had and spared us both the pain.
I sat on a bench outside the grocery store and let the tears fall with the memories. She kicked me out at 16 to live with my father whom I barely knew, it was a relief to be out of the house I was imprisoned in. A house in which I could do nothing right, where every little pleasure was taken from me as a form of punishment. Not much different than my home now. One filled with rooms of unspoken, knowing if one speaks of what matters, the cracks will break and no one is quite ready for the catastrophy that will follow. So the hurt and resentments clutter the house along with stacks of bills, fishing lures. Dust settles on photographs of happier times, although looking back I wonder if I really was happier then or just too busy to know I wasn’t. I began to laugh through the tears knowing that I am at a crossroads, wondering what would lie ahead if I left, would I find a love I am worthy of or live alone? If alone, how much worse could that be than being alone in a marriage.
The cool November wind dried my cheeks of tears as I walked home. I smiled feeling the breeze blow my through my long hair, as if to console me. I watched an older married couple as they held hands walking to synagogue. How nice it must be for them to remain that close after years together. I struggled to remember the last time my hand was held and I knew then that if I chose to stay, I may never know what that is like again. It’s not about growing old with someone really, it’s about staying young with someone.
I passed an anhinga on the pond on the way home, wings outstretched as if ready to take flight yet doesn’t. I smiled recognizing myself wondering when I will shift my strength in holding on to letting go … to fly
Honesty on an incredible level! You have a beautiful soul. And a right to love and be loved. ❤
Thank you Cath. I began wrting it this morning and finished it up now. I don’t know if this is the forum for something so personal really, but it feels good to get it out and make the pain creative instead of merely something that eats at me.
This was an amazing read. Truly touched my soul.
Thank you! ♥
Even through your pain you saw the beauty in the day, that speaks volumes about your soul and the person you are.
Nothing to be ashamed about crying, it cleanses the soul.
Thank you so much.
Beautiful. And true.
Beautifully written. I was touched by your story.
Thank you very much!
Terribly sad yet somehow redemptive.
I remember a period in my life where I would cry almost daily, at house-sale signs, crap-TV, anything. Only in hindsight did I come to see it was a sign that I was ready to change my life – I was mourning what I would never have because I’d forgotten I was capable of getting it.
You can become a parent without any qualifications or abilities. I hope you can let go of your mothers judgements – she never knew you, and her judgements of you were only statements of how she felt about herself.
I like the idea of ‘staying young’ together. For me it’s been about going deeper together – from the surface lusts and fancies of youth to the oceanic passions and commitments of wisdom.
Good luck in letting it go 🙂
Thank you so much for your thoughtful comments. I debated sharing it, but it seemed to write itself and I felt better having done it. “I was mourning what I would never have, because I’d forgotten…” Is such a powerful statement and perfectly states this inner turbulence. ( I wish I wrote it!) I just don’t know at this time what it is I will be letting go of.
“when I will shift my strength in holding on to letting go” Love this. A crossroads…yes, I can relate.
Thank you… I’m sure it will come in time.
you say here, ” It’s amazing how scents allow you to time travel.” But what’s really amazing is how good writing can allow you to see into another person’s beautiful heartbroken and yet healing soul.
Thank you so very much for sharing, MagicalBird
Thank you!
Wow, very soul-baring H. We all have such stories, and most people never know & think they carry pain all alone. A time will come and a purpose will be known for all things that happen to us. We have to use our best judgement to do what we feel is best…other than that, no answer really exists. All these people that have made your life difficult…you know as well as I do that they have helped you become the you that you are…and continue to grow into. And I do know about being with someone, & being more alone than being by yourself. I’m sorry about the relationship with your mother. Maybe one day she will see beyond her own grief. Stay strong and don’t give up hope that things will find a way to become better! A.
Thank you so very much for your heartfelt comments. It felt so good to write and I struggled with whether or not I should publish it. In the end, I am glad that I did, as a record of who I was at that moment. I began this blog to document my path of self discovery, it would seem wrong to only share the high points and not the low… Thank you so very much for your kindness.
You’re welcome. We can find comfort in knowing we dont’ go through these things alone.