Mother and Child

This is a favorite of mine. The image of that day is still vivid in my mind. Everyone I know who is a mom can relate to this type of day. I wrote this well before I had kids. Go figure.


Mother and Child

I spent a day on Block Island.
Summer people everywhere-
tanned parent with screaming kids,
hippie guys with knotted hair and girls
in string bikinis.
For a day, it was paradise.
There is a ferry that takes people to this place,
this land of sand and drinks.
On my way off this island,
as the sun was reposing,
I sat on the ferry thinking.
My body ached from the sun and my eyes were
tired from staring.
I glanced to my side and there,
in the shade of the sun's summer glow,
was a mother and her sun burnt son.
The mother was awake; the child was fast asleep
in her arms.
His day had ended at 11am,
but he had walked on,
annoyed,
yet happy to be with his mom.
His cheeks looked puffy,
his eyelashes looked white.
As I watched them,
I could see united breathing.
In...out....in...out.
A mother and child are a thing of beauty
in the middle of July.

Crepes

Last night and tonight I had the same dinner and it made me so happy. Food is such an amazing thing. In many instances it's way more than taste. It's mood, moment, memory. Crepes are something I've eaten since childhood. Sitting in my grandmothers kitchen, while she stood at the stove and made me one after another. If you've never eaten one, it's amazing. My grandmother was perfect at making them paper thin, and as she flipped them onto my plate I had eaten it in my mind before I even slathered it in butter, rolled it up with my fork, and devoured it.
I remember my sister and I standing in her kitchen, going through her recipes and watching her make Crepes so we could learn from the master. Honestly it's one of my favorite memories. Learning how hot the pan should be, the flip of the wrist, the amount of batter to put in the pan, all little details that you just can't gain from a book. Standing at the stove with your grandmother makes all the difference.
Eating them tonight, I think I did pretty well. Not exactly like her, but pretty damn close. I think she'd be proud.

A little more poetry

yet again, another one with no date! This was done back in College..quite literal. I was on campus, it was a beautiful day and I looked up to the main street, and saw the site below go riding by. I wondered where he was headed. What was he doing that was important enough that even crutches wouldn't get in his way?


Motorcycle Man with a Crutch

Rumblings in the afternoon led me to look at a
street level sight -
his hand was balanced on a thigh dirty from oil
changes and beer chugging contests; things done to
fill a void.
One crutch reaching out the back and swaying
ever so slightly in the wind.
Aqua blue is the color of choice, clashing with
dark ideas and leather tired skin.
No injury can stay this man; mid November and
still riding tar worn roads to nowhere.
There is no back seat rider clutching at his waist
on this breezy November day.
I put myself as that back seat rider without a
destination; without a reason to sit still-grasping
onto a chest that likes to feel nails digging through fabric,
to flesh.
Pondering the rumblings of the afternoon, I think of
what it would be like to share a drink or two with a man
steeped in leather.
It would be a meeting of few words and honest looks; well
worth the dirt in my hair and the sweat on my back.

Ok, so once again I have not dated a poem. I think this one was done around June/July of 2008 but then one can't be sure. Like I stated in a previous post, sometimes you have to go backwards to go forwards. In a lot of ways, I'm still searching for that way home. Searching for that place of comfort where you walk in the door and feel relaxed and rejuvenated. I had it once. That feeling is tied to the place and to the people that surround you.


A Way Home

I feel like I'm chasing fireflies.
Running in circles
looking everywhere for the right solution.
I suppose I should seek from within
what is not in my eyesight.
It is painful,
and all swallowing this void in my heart.
I'm yearning for soft touches,
long conversations about nothing,
and naked days in bed.
Its almost like walking onto the flats when
the corn is high,
and the rows are endless.
I stand there,
deep in the soil,
watching the corn meet the skyline,
swaying with the wind tide,
and I know there is a way home.
I know it like I know my own soul.
But there are no signs.
No markers.
Not even a smirking scarecrow.
I can barely lift my feet to pick a way,
a route,
a direction.
I'd like to feel like a queen again.
I deserve to know my way home,
and get there without even
knowing the roads,
the fields,
or the hills.

When is it my turn?

So, last night went out had many drinks with some friends. It was a much needed night out since all of us have been in a sad sort of funk - varying levels of frustration and completely unsure of how to fix any of it. We laughed - a lot about everything. Sometimes things aren't funny until someone else is with you. Then suddenly it's all funny and not so hard to handle.

One of the things I was talking about was my mom. I love her dearly and we are very close. She's approaching retirement (my dad already is retired) and I'm starting to wonder at what point will she do something for herself. She has spent the better part of her life living for her kids. I'm interested to see if she stands up for herself and says what SHE wants. Cause frankly I'm afraid for what will happen if she doesn't. I may not be living where I am forever. I might move. I dread the holy hell that will cause. But my thing is at what point do I get to truly live? At what point do I get to make a life decision that involves what is best for me and my child? When can I do that? She expects me to always stay near. Its never about her coming to me. I have to do things on her terms. She is very fearful that I'll move away. and not even because she won't get to see me. It's her fear that she'll not get to see my daughter. I want her to live her life for herself.
I've decided I"m going to write on various sheets of paper this one question.

WHAT DO I WANT FOR ME?

I'm going to post it in various places all over my parents house. I want them to start thinking about their lives without kids. What is the definition of marriage? of a relationship? What does it mean to have a new lease on life? These are questions we all ask ourselves at varying points. I'm in survival mode right now so overanalzying my future is not beneficial, but for my parents, my mom especially, she needs to live her life without me attached to her hip. and that will be terrifying for her but likely the best thing she could do for herself. Even if she doesn't know it yet.

My child is a klepto

Ok, maybe that's pushing it. But over the weekend, I had an incident occur that actually made my head spin and my eyes water.

I was in the process of cleaning the bathroom and abby came in,(the 3 1/2 yr. old) and wanted to help. I gave her a sponge and let her have at it. Well, at some point she took one of the environmentally friendly cleaners and hid it. Mind you, I live in an apartment. It's big as 2 bedrooms go, but its not huge by any means. I scoured the entire apartment for this bottle of cleaner, and couldn't find it anywhere. I asked abby about it, and she tells me "I can't tell you where it is." Ok, I'm not CIA and this is not an interrogation but COME ON!! Tell me where it is!! "Mommy, you made me sad." and the crying began. I finally gave up after the 4th look under the couch. "mommy, maybe it's under the chair." argh.

Tonight, after I put the peanut in bed, I walk into the bathroom, and laying on the floor is a bottle of cleaner. I couldnt' believe my eyes. I walked into her room and said, "Abby, where did this come from?" "I don't know". At this point, I don't even care. I'm just happy she brought it back to me. But, I am a tad frightened she managed to hide something that big so well.

Maybe there is a future for her in government.

going backward to go forward

Ok, so in order for me to go forwards, I need to go backwards a bit. Here is the short version of life events - married at 25, stayed married for about 10 years, had a child, marriage fell apart. To clarify - the marriage DID NOT fall apart because of the child - issues were there but muted. Muted in ways I didn't really see until later on. As is always the case. Officially divorced in February of 2009. Living on my own with my daughter since Sept. 08. It's been hard and good at the same time. The life struggle is always interesting to me. Everyone has had hard times of one kind or another. Ever have situations happen to you that just make you go, " REALLY?!? NOW is the best time for more shit to happen to me? Oh thank god cause I'm handling all the crap I already have going on just fucking fine." That has been been the past year for sure. The longest year of my life as I like to call it.
Thank god for work(kept me focused on something other than my failing marriage), friends(who've bought me many drinks and I owe them all),family(for always listening) and above all my daughter(for being the best.thing.ever.)

Those are some of the "things" that have helped me get up everyday and keep on moving. You never realize how strong you are until you are faced with decisions that you've only watched other people make. Like when is a marriage over? (you just know by the way. all the fight has been sucked oughta ya.)I had always figured out how I'd respond depending on the circumstances, but then when faced with the real decision, its different. It's not at all like you think. It's way fucking harder.

I swore I wasn't going to buckle, or break or fall apart. Sure, I had my moments, but somehow I harnassed sheer will and refused to be beaten. Plus, when a 3yr. old smiles at you, suddenly you feel like a superhero. So, rebuilding a life on my own has had its ups and downs. The other thing that has sustained me is music. It always has been a lifting up in my life at many points. Bruce Springsteen has carried me through more days than he realizes. I've always loved his music, but more so now than ever. I never understood "Tunnel of Love" until I got divorced. That album is about relationships, figuring out who you really are, and still having hope that you can come out alive. He sings so many songs about the human experience. There is one song off of "Born to Run" that I can think of that illustrates how much his hope has given me hope. There is a song called "Meeting across the River". It's about a guy who lives on the edge of what is legal. Doing whatever he can to make it. and he's always looking for that one "job" that's gonna make him walk tall and walk free forever. His girlfriend doesn't believe he has it in him, but he does. He still finds hope within himself to keep going. So he goes out on that last job, and carries a gun this time. The thing is, Bruce never gives us the ending. He never tells us if "eddie" makes it or not. But he does give you enough hope to believe that Eddie will make it. That this time, he's not just talkin'. That idea of hope, that around the next corner will be the success you need to pull yourself ahead is what keeps us all pushing. I know it does me. I keep telling myself that I just need to pull through the next week, the next month, and I"ll be in a better spot. Even if it doesn't happen, I keep pushing for it. Cause I know it's there. It's gotta be. I'm working towards changes within myself and in my surroundings and it moves slowly, but I'm convinced I'll get there. Even if I'm 40 by the time it happens. lol