Friday, April 28, 2006


It starts inside a church- people sitting down in the pews- and being ejected out of them. A homosexual couple, a non-caucasion person, someone with facial piercings, a woman possibly homeless and apparently unwashed judging by the crawling away reaction of the man she sits beside.
God doesn't reject. Neither do we.(
I've never understood devotedly church going, prayerful people faithful to a God who loves all, who teaches us to walk in his image and not to judge;
who turn around and point others out of the Church and away from God because apparently God has given them the right to do His picking and choosing of whom He will love and accept.
(Author's intent to pass along, not plagiarize.)

Saturday, April 15, 2006

what to do with it

I have been standing strong for two days on those words, the words that crumpled me, words of finality and untold feelings- I have nothing to say to you.
Doesn't that reinforce how hard it was for us to communicate? I ask myself. I left him three months before our wedding, and he has no comment. He loved me deeply, but he keeps so much inside- especially the problems.
Tonight I picked up the necklace he made for just me, his second attempt at crocheting during a quiet spell on his night-shift job ( the first attempt gave me a bracelet). I examine every weave, picture his fingers making them, and want deeply to call and hear his voice. I love the $200 earrings- both pairs- and $300 matching pendant he gave me, and I appreciate them; but I am in love with the bracelet and the necklace. His hands. Made them. For me.
I linger a while, on the tide line of remorse.
Then tell myself, Enough. I think.
When does enough become Too Much? What if it is Too Little?
Look ahead, I say. To what?
To your life! your whole life.
but it is spinning around my head in pieces.

Monday, April 10, 2006

Pitter patter of water buffalo

Light on cat feet? HA!- obviously not referring to an 11 lb Maine Coon persuing a 7 lb tabby through the living room, a sound more appropriately labeled as 'thunder'. Or that same Coon cat leaping four feet from the dresser onto my bed at 5AM- jack rabbit from the sky. THUMP!
Although seeming average size, Sylvia is indeed a petite feline- most notable seen parallel to Annie; it's like a watermelon and a zucchini. Sylvia pounced Annie frequently up until the first time Annie realized she could pounce back- I think I heard Sylvia curse.
(no one ever gets hurt, not even me...! they swat with nails in and the three times I've heard a cry like discomfort I've stormed in yelling quite effectively.)

dummies for romance

'...being real or just putting up a facade...'
A thought to shake me out of my fairy tale, a thought I've been shunning.
I like a good story, so I certainly like living one. And it is so nice to have someone (at least claim to) want and need my affections.
I was incredibly spoiled by Harold and it's often difficult to remember why I left- Fiance and I didn't sit up and talk, we didn't look into each other's eyes or ever mention being crazy about each other; we didn't kiss in public, or kiss much at all the last two years. Reminiscing was called 'silly'; no slow dancing; no meaningful songs, no letters or notes to me- twice a response to mine when begged for. No I miss you's. I love you's were down to the ends of phone calls, and before he left for work if I said it first. I'm sure there was something he liked about ME but he was never able to think of one, nor could he ever say why he thought we should be married.
He poured wine in my fish bowl, said not-nice things about my mom, made up stories to string me along about why we weren't getting engaged, cracked jokes when I was upset and needed someone to listen, made me cry three times in our first month of dating.
And I almost married him ... gullible, foolish, stubborn- I am not wise at directing my heart.
If I were any good at relationships I would not have lost Harold. Maybe I should finally put on the shawl, pick up the yarn ball, and start knitting sweaters for my cats.

Sunday, April 09, 2006


Is it okay to have happiness in my life so soon?
I do- I have happy. I have someone giving me lots of happy.

Friday, April 07, 2006

Ain't No Mountain High Enough

Do you ever feel like a song is playing just for you? I've come across Ain't No Mountain High Enough, or its come across me, maybe fifteen times since I hit the road home-bound from Maine. Diana Ross', Michael McDonald's- How do they know?
I know somewhere is a quote about knowing who your friends are when adversity hits- who will stick by and keep you from falling through the bottom.
The support I have is- absolute. Phone calls, words of encouragement, invites to visit, to live until I get it all back together. Quiet when I need it. Kudos for being strong and doing the difficult thing.
I hope Nate is getting all this support. It is certain his family, friends and coworkers have rallied around him and he does not doubt himself the way I can. Hopefully he will eventually decide I am gone and forget me except for those passing breezes of light memory.
He still wanted to marry me after all the doubts I expressed through our engagement- doubts often met with silence, sometimes with anger. Certainly that wasn't happiness for him. He'd use humor to say he hoped I'd show up at the altar. It can seem insurmountable to deliver a big hurt, but hurting someone over and over, like hundreds of hits just hard enough to bruise, can warp your essence and purpose.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

One night I had an anxiety attack that lasted two hours- my hands and lower legs eventually went numb and it felt like I was going to pass out. So I had my doubts about the marriage.
But one day we had our regular grand old time together- dinner with his family, stopping for ice cream on the way, hitting the sack before he left for work; and 14 hours later I was on the road bound for New Jersey with only the essentials - which definitely includes my two cats.
From engaged and living together, to strangers. I expect it to feel odd. It does.
I miss sitting between his legs on the floor while we watched movies and he rubbed my hair. He found a way to quiet my Tourettes and he'd pause his sleep to rub my lower belly until I relaxed. No one else ever found a way to do that.
I miss the little things... isn't that what happens always?
In pop rock style Peter Cetera landed it- "Leaving your memory behind me, hoping that nothing reminds me, praying that I can forget." Okay, not healthy, but sometimes it helps me look ahead when I can't seem to stop craning my neck to stare behind.
Won't I ever get this relationship thing right?
I say I am no good for men, I should spare them from me. But I don't.
When I was 21 and visiting my cousin she took me on a baby sitting job with her. The mother was a woman whose husband was unable to handle the responsibility of two young children, and he split. That isn't the good part.
The good part, the part I've been chasing, is the relationship they had before he left. They were best friends, buddie, comrades. They were deeply in love pals.
The photographs were evidence to the tale. That's what I have been after.
And I think it might have found me.