Close your eyes and sleep to dream

I've been reading a lot of political blogs lately and what I've found is that they tend to depress me and make me lose hope in everything and I think hope is important to have. It makes getting up in the morning worthwhile if you believe that there are positives to counter all the negatives, that there is light somewhere within the darkness. So I decided to stop obsessing over wanting to read everything and know everything because what can one person do with all that knowledge anyway? I want to know what is going on, but I need to continue to have hope that things will be ok. I'm not sure if I'm just fooling myself or what. I've become somewhat jaded about everything and I am not exaggerating when I write this. I'm like the dark cloud over Eyeore's head threatening to rain at any moment and spoil everyone's day. Tell me something wonderful and I'll be able to root out the evil that's lurking beneath the all the wonderfulness. I've turned into quite the killjoy for sure.

I was talking to a friend of mine the other day and we were both lamenting about how our lives did not turn out the way we had dreamed they would--how things happened that we had no control over and how we had to adapt to a different life plan. There isn't a place to go where we can just cry about the losses that probably aren't significant to most of the outside world but still feel huge to us. There's this fear of expressing dissatisfaction when you know that mostly your life is blessed, because the rule is that you count your blessings and you do not ask for more than enough when you have enough. And so we discuss this with each other and tell each other that we're lucky because we are. And the speaking of the words that feel like a betrayal helps for a while. We hang up our phones and get on with the lives we have and we feel less alone knowing there is at least one person walking the earth who feels the same things.

I'm on one of my cleaning binges again. It's always all or nothing with me and I tend to disrespect housecleaning now that I have been doing it more than half of my life. There's nothing rewarding about it but I get to the point where I feel like I need control of something, anything, and so I clean. Even when I know that tomorrow at this time everything I've done will be undone there are at least a few moments when things are in order and that gives me a little peace. My gravestone will probably read something like, She lived, She cleaned, She saw her cleaning come undone, She died.

I'm almost done the Bible and know that I will have to go back and read it all again because there is just so much to take in after just one reading. My mind is filled with all the stories and all the questions I have that I am afraid I will never get the answers to--at least not in this life. I've found some of the most beautiful prose inside the Bible and I wasn't expecting that. And I've also found that while there were things I did not understand, I did get the messages of love that were preached throughout, and the messages of forgiveness. Life is so complicated, and people make it more complicated than it needs to be. The message of loving one another is such a simple thing, yet most of us can't sustain that sort of love long enough to make a difference. There are too many outside annoyances calling our attention away from what is most important and we simply allow those distractions to steal the gift of love away and put it on a back burner. I start off each day swearing to do better and by noon I'm off track. I'm not sure good intentions count for anything when good intentions are all I ever end up having.

Watermelon is great this time of the year...and air conditioning is the greatest invention of all time when it is 100 degrees outside. I feel alive when I go outside and within a minute am covered in sweat. I feel alive when I come inside and am met with a wall of cool air. I am here in this corner of the world struggling to make sense of everything that doesn't make sense. I turn the page and think about all the things I need to put down in words so that I will not be forgotten. I scream inside my head, don't forget me.

Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice, you've made it now

"It is only when we silent the blaring sounds of our daily existence that we can finally hear the whispers of truth that life reveals to us, as it stands knocking on the doorsteps of our hearts." ~K.T. Jong



"I wish we could squeeze in going back to see them," I said to my husband today.

I think about the porch with the rocking chair I always sit in--the one painted bluish gray and hand stenciled by my mother. I think of the window boxes filled with pansies, the pond littered with lily pads, the birdhouses made by my father nailed up high in the trees, the quiet peace I find secluded in the country where cars are not constantly whizzing by--where life takes its time because life will not be rushed there. My life is nothing like theirs and the silence always unnerves me, then eventually soothes me.

I think of my childhood furniture in the room upstairs where we always stay when we visit. I tell my children how I slept in this bed when I was little, and how right beside me, slept my sister, and sometimes I wish so hard that I could go back again because I never appreciated sharing a room with her until I didn't anymore. But mostly I think of the wildflowers because you would not believe how beautiful they are, and how whenever I see wildflowers anywhere, I always think of them.

Summer always makes me want to go back to my other home, to my other family, but this year, we're heading somewhere different. I'll be on vacation for the week.

Until then, think of me.

It's just a matter of time until we're all found out

There are roses in bloom everywhere when I am out running. The rose scented air--it makes me want to stop. It makes me want to sit down beside them and inhale the sweet perfumed scent until I've had my fill. I think there are some things you cannot get enough of and I think the scent of roses is one of them.

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My son will soon be coming home for the summer. Every time I speak to him, he tells me that he misses home and can't wait to get back to us. I try not to think about all the ways in which life changes for me and all the ways in which life stays the same. I try not to think about the chaos that will inevitably reign supreme here once everyone is home again. I tell myself that I am home to someone. I tell myself that I am someone's home.

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I used to live by the ocean and miss it every day. I want to sit in front of the ocean again and listen to the waves crash one after another forever. I want to dig my feet into the cool, white sand that feels like a kiss. I want to search for shells. I feel like I belong there. I never feel like I belong anywhere.

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There's a courthouse in the center of town that holds weddings on the weekends. Each time I pass by, I am tempted to shout out to the couple that happily ever after is a lie. No one tells the truth about marriage, or maybe it's that when love is so new, the truth of love being lost, or love becoming less intense, or love simply dying cannot be imagined. You must live it to learn it, and so I keep my mouth shut and drive silently by. Who am I to begrudge them one blissfully ignorant day where love is the answer to everything?

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I have secrets about me that I have never told anyone. I think my secrets say more about me than the things I'm willing to share.

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I like the icing better than the cake.