There is always temptation in life to be swayed to live your life a different way. Impervious to other’s ill intentions you want to believe that what they have in store for you will increase your sense of self instead of knocking on death’s door. The games we try to play just to fit in become the disease in the end. Intertwined in every good intention is a seed of doubt and insecurity that leaves ones hands and catches hold within another.
There is so much confusion in who I want to be. What does it mean and who do I look like when I forget about everything that makes me me. In my heart I have always wanted to be a housewife just like my Grandmother used to be. How our conversations would be differently now if we could have just one more time to sit and be. I try to tell those that will listen that I have had that chance in recent years. How can one remember the scars that were on her fingers from the way she used to eat apples just sitting in her chair. Apron half off around her waist as she would eat gingerly slice by slice. There was just something about her style that was always handled with simplicity and grace. I miss her more everyday like time may have stood still. I can’t help but imagine and hoping that maybe one day I will end up like her.
Now with that image in mind I need to remind myself to act more like her and only get caught up in the things that truly mattered. Not the tired scroll through social media but the baby cuddles and holding of his little feet. I can’t help but try to imprint this exact moment in my brain because I know one day things will never be the same. Even today as he was crying in frustration. You see he got his flu shot and is experiencing some symptoms. I tried to remind myself to not get frustrated as this was the first time that he will probably remember what it felt like to get sick. Writhing in pain from fever and chills more so because it was unknown and foreign and there wasn’t too much we could do to keep him still. Frustration threatened to come but I would not even greet him at the door. What I was thankful for in this moment was having a son that I could actually hold. I know there are mom’s out there who would give anything for this one moment in time back so I want to be with him as much as possible until it is not cool to be with your mom.
I wonder if my Grandmother was appreciated for all that she would do. Cleaning up after the kids, tending to the animals, preparing meals from food she gathered from the garden, she was once so hopeful and young just like me. I wonder what she hoped for and if she was content in her life. The smile that she shows in photographs says she had a life well lived. I can’t help but miss her and them and who we used to be. Thinking back to far in the past brings depression and in this moment I can confirm with you that it is true. I miss all that used to be before it all began to crumble away. I live in those moments sometimes to bathe in the melancholy because it is there that I bring them to life again one day. One day we won’t be here and none of this will matter so is there a point to even trying if you are just going to live it and waste it? In another’s shadows to scared of who you could be. I know that feeling of uneasiness that threatens to take you. I live with that feeling everyday.
How intimate does love have to be before it starts to feel good and are we constantly trying to pervert it in some inhumane way? Look at the violence that is always in front of us and how we lust for it every day. There are those that want to harm and bully and distort what it means to be alive. Beating our own brain into oblivion with drugs and alcohol and who knows what else just so we can make another’s day. Some people are just born to oppose you as a test to see if you are worthy of a life filled with anything else. You have to get up every day and work your knuckles to the bone. That is what makes life seem more satisfying when you are born from your own blood, sweat and tears. Hard work. Determination. So many kicks to the jingle bells that it no longer matters that they are constantly out of tune. One day the love that I put out into the Universe will be recognized one day. There is this slime level of filth that is still around me as I wish and hope for another to jump ship. My journey into authenticity is over all these fake and self righteous entitled little mutts. One day my luck will change and my ship will surely make it’s way in.
Loyalty has to make it’s way back to you one day…doesn’t it? Or do you even want loyalty to come back because in the very meaning it means that they have once betrayed you. I put those who have appeared wishy, washy somewhere on the back burner. Like on a need to know basis, maybe in passing who am I to say or even know. What I know more than anything is that loyalty is earned and once broken it is impossible to get back. The scar of the knife that stabbed you lights like a beacon for all to see. A friend who is a foe when backs are turned is a foe to the rest of the world.