NOW
My parents drove to Vernon a few days ago. I gaze across the drive-way at their quiet house, looking for some movement; a light going off and on, the flicker of the TV, a face in the window. It's just still.
I stood on my deck the other night and had this moment of plausible, tangible desperation. I had this moment where I thrust myself forward in time, where I would one day be standing there on my deck, and my parents would not be coming home. There would be no one wandering around in the yard filling bird feeders, or watering Geraniums or planting potatoes or carrots or onions. For a very condensed second, I "felt" what their gone "ness" would feel like. I went through me like a black cloud. My breathing was heavy and slow. I had a burning in the back of my mouth and nose,- my eyes glazed over in an instant, like I'd been shot in the chest. Funny what the mind can do by just "thinking" about something. The power of thought more enormous than we could ever possibly imagine. Thoughts are things. Big, real, tangible things.
I looked across the drive at my mother's red front door. I looked into my dad's office window. I looked at all their hanging plants, the wind rocking them from side to side. The stars were so bright and perfect against a velvet black sky. A licorice sky with pieces of glass pushed into it. I actually had a tear roll down the side of my face. It hit my nose and hugged itself onto the crease of my mouth and them rolled underneath my chin...no the other one...no the other one.....(my dad loves that joke).
But they are still here. My folks...I thought to myself. We are here. It's always amazing to me how we get so ahead of ourselves as to never ever be living in a moment, THE moment. Life goes by quickly because we're already living in next week, next year. Our schedules force us to always be "there" and not "here". I just want to be "here".
I stood on my deck the other night and had this moment of plausible, tangible desperation. I had this moment where I thrust myself forward in time, where I would one day be standing there on my deck, and my parents would not be coming home. There would be no one wandering around in the yard filling bird feeders, or watering Geraniums or planting potatoes or carrots or onions. For a very condensed second, I "felt" what their gone "ness" would feel like. I went through me like a black cloud. My breathing was heavy and slow. I had a burning in the back of my mouth and nose,- my eyes glazed over in an instant, like I'd been shot in the chest. Funny what the mind can do by just "thinking" about something. The power of thought more enormous than we could ever possibly imagine. Thoughts are things. Big, real, tangible things.
I looked across the drive at my mother's red front door. I looked into my dad's office window. I looked at all their hanging plants, the wind rocking them from side to side. The stars were so bright and perfect against a velvet black sky. A licorice sky with pieces of glass pushed into it. I actually had a tear roll down the side of my face. It hit my nose and hugged itself onto the crease of my mouth and them rolled underneath my chin...no the other one...no the other one.....(my dad loves that joke).
But they are still here. My folks...I thought to myself. We are here. It's always amazing to me how we get so ahead of ourselves as to never ever be living in a moment, THE moment. Life goes by quickly because we're already living in next week, next year. Our schedules force us to always be "there" and not "here". I just want to be "here".
I know my parents will be gone someday, hell I may be gone before they are, but the point is is that it doesn't matter. Just find bliss in every single breath you take, no matter how hard it can be from time to time. Life was not meant to be easy, it wasn't. It was meant to be a tumultuous, somewhat insane, joyous, stormy voyage. The odds of even having the chance to exist here are beyond any modern day lottery. This cosmic lottery we won is one of wonder and mystery and pleasure and insurmountable pain. So it is...but here we are, going through our days like they will never end, when we should be going through them like they will, indeed end. It would almost serve us better to know, really understand that they ARE numbered and to enjoy them. Sometimes reckless abandon serves no purpose but recklessness.
I am looking across the drive-way now. The fountain is gurgling away, birds are dipping themselves into the pool at it's foot. They think it's real. I wonder how much of this we think is real? The wind is picking up. It's getting colder by the second. It smells like snow. I know it after all these years, I know what it smells like. The trees all look frantic. They strike against each other and tangle their arms into a brittle mess. Bits and pieces of branches and leaves throwing themselves onto the ground. I won't last long out here. The cold buries itself into my hips and stays there through out the afternoon. The dog is here curled into a ball. If she could read a book, I am sure she would. Maybe I'll read to her out loud. I may light a fire and make some hot chocolate. I even have marshmallows. In fact, I think I have 1500 marshmallows as my mother bought me a bag at Costco 3 years ago....
I am looking across the drive-way now. The fountain is gurgling away, birds are dipping themselves into the pool at it's foot. They think it's real. I wonder how much of this we think is real? The wind is picking up. It's getting colder by the second. It smells like snow. I know it after all these years, I know what it smells like. The trees all look frantic. They strike against each other and tangle their arms into a brittle mess. Bits and pieces of branches and leaves throwing themselves onto the ground. I won't last long out here. The cold buries itself into my hips and stays there through out the afternoon. The dog is here curled into a ball. If she could read a book, I am sure she would. Maybe I'll read to her out loud. I may light a fire and make some hot chocolate. I even have marshmallows. In fact, I think I have 1500 marshmallows as my mother bought me a bag at Costco 3 years ago....
Hhhmmmmmm I could even make some Rice Krispee squares. My dad loves those. I'll bring them over some when they get home tomorrow night.
I'll be able to see them come into the drive from here. I can see every car. I am like Gladys Kravitz. I know who is coming and going.
I am lucky to be able to have them with me still. I hope I have them for 20ty more years. My dad always says he won't last the year, and he's been saying that since he was 50ty. I come by my drama naturally in this family.
A snowflake just went by sticking it's tongue out at me.
Little Bastard.
Little Bastard.
Posted by Jann
