Days-Daze
The days that changed my life:
A day I don't remember, but where I (have been told) I cried as my mother showed me that school was closed, it was only three days a week. And she promised to fix it. And she did. And a new school, the "big kid's school" was had. She made my first wish come true before I ever realized I wished it. Even the wishes of three year olds have lasting consequences.
A day I do remember, vividly, where my parents - caring, but lacking in any kind of emotional perceptiveness and who would lack the language to express it even if they did - told me that, Well dear, you are fat." After that day, I would never ever be thin. I would never be able to actually see myself ever again. Even the well meaning efforts of parents have lasting consequences.
A day I spent many years trying to forget, but which I have learned to live with remembering as it is brought back to me always when I least expect it, in any song from the Red Hot Chili Peppers Blood Sugar Sex Magic album that was playing the whole time over and over, or by the random people that show up on the train next to me and so conveniently remember for me pressing their unwanted remarks into my palm like a secret note or a dirty, sweaty dollar bill, or by that face showing up on my front steps as I answered the door, greeting guest for my last party. After all these years, I know it was, but, accept, finally, what is more important is that I am.
A day, late in the day, a night where he babbled. And then he told me he loved me. Over and over. And taught me I could be loved. If only for a summer.
A day, early, before the sun came up, where I decided that not knowing hurt more than knowing. And I went on the trip, and I asked the question to which I knew the answer. But which I could never decide if I was more disappointed in hearing the answer, or in the fact, that I no longer cared what it was.
A day, many days before the early day, where I decided not to go home. And I stayed. And stayed and stayed. And never could go home again after that.
A day, where I decided to make a decision even though I couldn't decide what I wanted to do, and I decided to go to a place sight unseen (well, seen only once - which is the same as unseen to those who are overwrought and over-careful) and it made all the difference. And then it gave me the courage to do it again three years later. And it made even more of a difference.
A day, where I couldn't start my car. And I decided to take a cab, instead of a taxi.
A day where I sat at a table, filled with food and wine, and saw the reflection of myself in the eyes of every person who has given me the ultimate gift and made me their family. And the days after that, where it happened over and over again. So I would never forget, but would not need to remember either. I would just know.
A day where I couldn't do anything else. I could not stay. I could not go. I passed here and lost there. I was inconsolable. I thought I was lost. To myself. Forever. And in the end, I had to breathe. And it felt good. And the road opened up again.
A day I don't remember, but where I (have been told) I cried as my mother showed me that school was closed, it was only three days a week. And she promised to fix it. And she did. And a new school, the "big kid's school" was had. She made my first wish come true before I ever realized I wished it. Even the wishes of three year olds have lasting consequences.
A day I do remember, vividly, where my parents - caring, but lacking in any kind of emotional perceptiveness and who would lack the language to express it even if they did - told me that, Well dear, you are fat." After that day, I would never ever be thin. I would never be able to actually see myself ever again. Even the well meaning efforts of parents have lasting consequences.
A day I spent many years trying to forget, but which I have learned to live with remembering as it is brought back to me always when I least expect it, in any song from the Red Hot Chili Peppers Blood Sugar Sex Magic album that was playing the whole time over and over, or by the random people that show up on the train next to me and so conveniently remember for me pressing their unwanted remarks into my palm like a secret note or a dirty, sweaty dollar bill, or by that face showing up on my front steps as I answered the door, greeting guest for my last party. After all these years, I know it was, but, accept, finally, what is more important is that I am.
A day, late in the day, a night where he babbled. And then he told me he loved me. Over and over. And taught me I could be loved. If only for a summer.
A day, early, before the sun came up, where I decided that not knowing hurt more than knowing. And I went on the trip, and I asked the question to which I knew the answer. But which I could never decide if I was more disappointed in hearing the answer, or in the fact, that I no longer cared what it was.
A day, many days before the early day, where I decided not to go home. And I stayed. And stayed and stayed. And never could go home again after that.
A day, where I decided to make a decision even though I couldn't decide what I wanted to do, and I decided to go to a place sight unseen (well, seen only once - which is the same as unseen to those who are overwrought and over-careful) and it made all the difference. And then it gave me the courage to do it again three years later. And it made even more of a difference.
A day, where I couldn't start my car. And I decided to take a cab, instead of a taxi.
A day where I sat at a table, filled with food and wine, and saw the reflection of myself in the eyes of every person who has given me the ultimate gift and made me their family. And the days after that, where it happened over and over again. So I would never forget, but would not need to remember either. I would just know.
A day where I couldn't do anything else. I could not stay. I could not go. I passed here and lost there. I was inconsolable. I thought I was lost. To myself. Forever. And in the end, I had to breathe. And it felt good. And the road opened up again.
posted by CLC at
11:29 PM
1 Comments:
Thank you! I guess I may not know a lot about my present, but the past is something I can talk about...
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