Orbital Patterns
If I'm to be truthful, part of me would welcome death. That's not meant to be cavalier, or proud, I'm just tired. I can't ever separate from the gravity of those enmeshed with who I am.Like anyone, I've done things to hurt others. On most occasions I learned how, and why, in retrospect, which is a way of saying I was oblivious to the affects of my actions. As I skipped through the daisies thinking well of myself, I failed to see how many I trampled.
Reversing Gravity
If I've done anything well I've been amenable. If I hurt you I forced penance upon myself for doing so. That may not have made it right by you, but I was helped by rubbing my nose in it.
I did what I could to insure I know the difference between flight, and falling, the next time I felt the wind in my hair.
The guilt accumulated from what I ruined
has grown heavy over the years.
One benefit of age comes in the form of sight. I'm no longer confused by what appears simple, and what is simple. Monitoring every movement you make, and every word you utter, appears simple when it's practiced daily, when it's imperative to the maintenance of the status quot. The complexity beneath it, the exhaustion within it, is blinding when you agree to let things go. Simplicity is found when you discard fear, and realize you're better off alone. When you realize that, you begin to reverse the gravity that's been pulling you down.
Flashlight
Before my mother died she bought a final gift for each of her children, and assigned one of the others to present it.
- She purchased two champagne glasses for my younger brother to use when he fell in love, and married.
- She bought the book "On the Day You Were Born", for my sister, and had me read it to her on the birth of her first child.
- She bought me a flashlight that my brother gave me about twelve years too soon.
.jpg)
When I received it I was confused because I never felt lost. Even now, my course seems correct.
I never lost my way. I lost myself in the journey. There's a difference. If I were given the flashlight today it would make sense.
My mother was letting me know she was aware of what she, and the others, had done. She was aware of what she asked me to give up when asked to play the part of my father.
The flashlight was an apology for the interruptions:
I never lost my way. I lost myself in the journey. There's a difference. If I were given the flashlight today it would make sense.
My mother was letting me know she was aware of what she, and the others, had done. She was aware of what she asked me to give up when asked to play the part of my father.
The flashlight was an apology for the interruptions:
- A midnight request to be at the hospital when my sister tried to kill herself, and my dad was out drinking, and my brothers were sleeping.
- A lifetime assignment of heartache and empathy for my beautifully independent, and brilliant brother when he escaped in madness.
- Agreeing to be a pinata for the other brother, the one my father confessed to about originally wanting aborted. A Kevlar pinata that resets itself, and can absorb each angry, displaced blow meant for the other father, the one who really hurt him, the one who hurt all of us.
- Most importantly, a childhood void of its essential ingredient- a safe place to be a child- followed by a guarantee of being an incompetent adult.
My mother made certain she acknowledged what she knew no one else would. She made certain I knew I could stop agreeing to be used. She made certain I knew I deserved to be loved for who I am, not for what my family needed. She made certain I had a light to guide the way.
Parallel Universe
As I freed myself from my birth family I discovered the gravitational pull of my own. Personal psychology doesn't fuck around. If you're not actively engaged in solving its riddle it does it for you.
It locates a similar solar system, and adopts its orbit. It finds someone to orbit you with the same negative pull as the one you haven't quite escaped.
It marries you to the psychological twin necessary to finish your mission, as if it has its own urgency, as if it knows if left untended, the vessel it inhabits will implode. It marries you to your father until you figure things out, or get destroyed.
Check Mate
It locates a similar solar system, and adopts its orbit. It finds someone to orbit you with the same negative pull as the one you haven't quite escaped.
It marries you to the psychological twin necessary to finish your mission, as if it has its own urgency, as if it knows if left untended, the vessel it inhabits will implode. It marries you to your father until you figure things out, or get destroyed.
Check Mate
My mother's been dead for eighteen years. Her passage was eased when my ex-wife and I purchased her home. It became complicated when my ex led a coup to claim the house, and everything in it, in the divorce.
She even kept the photos of my mother.
She even kept the photos of my mother.
I was never offered a chance to retrieve the photo's, or had them put in a box, and given to me. Months later I was asked if I 'wanted' one. By then I knew you don't collect what's meaningful, you carry it, so I said no. My mother has always been engraved within me, but I still think she deserves more of a tribute than the way she was used as a Chess piece, or the way she was displayed on a mantle.
I set course to exit that galaxy, and my Ex took root in the vacancy. The system I was leaving would remain stable, and find equilibrium, as long as those in it agreed to the theory of it's origin, as long as they had a common 'Big Bang'. A solar system doesn't care who composes its parts as long as they're all there, without a void.
The photos of my mother have been on display in the same spot for the past eighteen years. But she doesn't really have a choice, does she?
Universal Balance
I set course to exit that galaxy, and my Ex took root in the vacancy. The system I was leaving would remain stable, and find equilibrium, as long as those in it agreed to the theory of it's origin, as long as they had a common 'Big Bang'. A solar system doesn't care who composes its parts as long as they're all there, without a void.
The photos of my mother have been on display in the same spot for the past eighteen years. But she doesn't really have a choice, does she?
To Infinity, And Beyond..
Never mind that what I offered was helpful.
Then something slipped out that wanted to, but hadn't, for almost two decades.
"You're home?", I said.
Then I vanished.
To infinity....
Space
It is her home, and the time shared with our sons is her history. She pays for it, decorates it, cares for it.
My mothers spirit once infused the soil with a thriving garden. Jack Lappin (my stepfather) made it a home with hundreds of hours that exposed an alternative to my dad. No one was ever asked to leave for anything, not even an unpopular opinion.
My mothers spirit once infused the soil with a thriving garden. Jack Lappin (my stepfather) made it a home with hundreds of hours that exposed an alternative to my dad. No one was ever asked to leave for anything, not even an unpopular opinion.
I watched Aaron's first steps there. I watched Jack and my mothers last breaths there. Keeping my mothers photos on the mantle doesn't extend a history. It doesn't change a bloodline. It doesn't provide insight, or heal. I turned and smiled at my mom as I left.
I wasted a lot of time naming planets, and looking for life forms, in a geography that doesn't exist. Outer Space, really? It's much more frightening to set your engine on warp speed, and go within.
Who could have known that the door I entered to receive my flashlight, would be the same one I'd exit when I put it down?
Thanks, Mom.
I miss you.
I wasted a lot of time naming planets, and looking for life forms, in a geography that doesn't exist. Outer Space, really? It's much more frightening to set your engine on warp speed, and go within.
Who could have known that the door I entered to receive my flashlight, would be the same one I'd exit when I put it down?
Thanks, Mom.
I miss you.
