Mom is Just a Nickname

Once upon a time…..No, wait. I’m not a ‘once upon a time’ sort of gal.  Let me try again.

There was this girl.  And she met this guy.  Hrm. No.  That just sounds like the beginning of a bad romance novel.

The truth is I don’t know where to start.  A week ago, the man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with left.  So, I thought there was a ‘once upon a time, the princess met her prince’ in my life, but he shattered that dream.  It seemed like my life was going along like a great romance novel – girl meets dreamy guy, there were a few bumps in the road, sure, but in the end they work it out and live happily ever after.  But this time, he’s just gone. No word, no note, no reason.  He’s just gone.  He packed his things and left.  It’s as if he was never in my life.

I tried calling his sister, but she hasn’t heard from him.  I tried calling his mother, but she’s never liked me anyhow so she wouldn’t tell me even if she has heard from him.  I don’t know why I bothered.  I tried  his best friend with no luck – he thought MIA was on vacation in the islands with me.

This is a man dedicated to his job.  He’s a veterinarian, a partner at a clinic.  His counterpart knew only that he’d taken some time off, but had gotten the impression that the vacation time was being taken with me!

Why did they think he was with me, when in fact he’d left me sitting alone and heartbroken in my empty apartment?  I sat up, dried my tears and thought long and hard.  There was a mystery here.  I knew it.  That sensitive guy that I had grown to love would not, could not, just walk out on me without a by-your-leave!  He was much too straightforward to do that. He’d sit me down and talk with me  first, give us time to work things out.  He knew how to talk about things. It was one of the things that had drawn me to him in the first place.  That, and his gorgeous blue eyes.  Not to mention that sexy, deep voice that I’d heard rumbling beneath the crowd at the party where we’d met.

…….

To be continued….

National Blog Posting Month – October 2011

I’ve got a day to catch up on…and what a day to have to catch up on.  So, I’ll write two posts today and call it even.

First off, I’ve decided to participate in NaBloPoMo this month.  Writing every day is good for the soul and I need something that is good for the soul these days.

So, here’s the heart of my October 1st post, even though it’s coming on October 2nd.

On October 1st, I take time to honor the life of my son Sullivan and to mourn his death.  He was a beautiful little baby with bright blue eyes, a charismatic little personality, and a frail body – as chubby and pink and warm as it always was.  He gifted me with one smile in his 23 months of life, although we saw many his happiness with us in many other ways.  Unfortunately, we saw he was unhappy and uncomfortable and in pain much more often.  His passing in the end was a blessing, as it let his body rest and set his soul free.  His beautiful, magnificent, old soul.  I like to believe that his soul learned from us love even as it endured the suffering.  Here is to Sullivan, my bright boy.  I miss him all year round, but particularly now in the fall, and most especially, on the day of his passing, on October 1st.

Mountains and meadows

moons and stars and waste

Jets and stones, rivers

hazards and haste.

Silence that’s not silence –

because there’s always noise;

Darkness that’s not darkness –

because we’ve drowned out the stars.

I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I tonight.

There is a difference between an empty house and a house full of sleepers.  A house full of sleepers feels ripe.  It is full of the  silence of potential and begs the respect of those awake; almost as if out of the silence, the dreams of those asleep will step into the room to visit. A house of sleepers speaks to creativity, begging me to sit awhile and write, to channel the potential of dreams.

An empty house feels different. It is an empty husk.  If I had to choose what time to spend in writing, I’d choose to write all night and sleep all day.  Because during the day, the air is heavy not with dreams, but with voices; with tasks and with requests.  During the day, even an empty house is one filled with things I should be doing.

But at night, the house is full only with the potential for creativity.  Sit and write awhile; sit and bead; sit and stitch awhile!  The very walls whisper to me, it sometimes seems.

Awake at five am,

Exhausted by three pm,

No time for naps though,

Too much I want to get done.

Too much I need to get done.

One thing is missing from my to-do list.

It was top on the list a month ago,

but I realized it was bringing me down.

Why should I do something

If it always makes me feel stupid?

I have other things that make me feel good;

When I do them, I feel creative!

I feel intelligent and strong!

So, why should I keep the thing

that makes me feel so wrong?

Oh, I’m not giving up on it completely.

Someday I’ll make the grade.

For now, though…

For now, the shiny baubles

and loamy earth,

the yappy puppies

the children, the dinners,

the laundry, the dishes,

the writing, the purring cats,

the time helping friends,

the time spent healing…