Tuesday, November 3, 2009
How Do You Say Goodbye to Yesterday?
How do you say goodbye to yesterday? How do you say goodbye to memories and places that will forever be in your heart? You never realize how much a house or a knick-knack is a part of you until you stand there packing things away because its time to let them go.
I helped pack up my uncle's house today, but I found myself packing away so much more than things. As I turned a corner or opened a drawer, I was confronted with old memories of running around that house as a child when my grandmother lived there-when I lived there-because almost all of us had lived in that house at one time or another. There are so many memories tied to that house and to the one next door. I could hear my grandmother call me to breakfast. I could see myself playing in the back yard. I learned to ride my bike on that street. I held hands with one of my first boyfriends on that swing. My granddad used to whittle underneath that old tree.
We disconnected a phone number that had been tied to my family and that house for over forty years! Its like saying goodbye to an era as much as it saying goodbye to loved ones. The pain I feel as I write this is crushing. How do you begin to box up all those years and find some way to salvage the love and tears that are held in those walls? How do take them away from a place and make others understand in the future what happened there?
I want people to understand what happened there. I want people to know about the wonderful people who lived in those houses, who took care of people and kissed boo boos. I want people to know about the old man that used to garden that back field, to know about that special woman who always put others first. I want them to remember my uncle for his loving heart and his commitment to see others for who they were inside and accept them with a quiet grace.
How do I do that? How do I make those lives live on because I don't want to pack them away into boxes. I don't want them to fade away. 910 and 914 Minnesota Ave. you were a haven, a comfort, and so much more than shelter. You were home.
Addendum:
I wrote this in November of 2008 after losing my uncle quite suddenly. In packing away his things, I realized how much of my life was getting packed away as well. It was a heartbreaking time for my family because we are so tight-knit. I still don't know how to hold on to these memories or how to preserve the people we've lost for the future to see, but I hope one day I can.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Across the Floor
The DJ looked out on the crowd. Bass thumping, laser lights pulsing in time to the rhythms he alone created. Bodies pulsed and swayed in time to the music. Glow sticks swirled in celestial patterns, merging with the laser lights, bathing the crowd in a surreal glow. The crowd was united tonight. United in the love of the beat and the music, just the way he liked it.
He lifted one side of the headphones to his ear to cue up the next track. Tonight they were riding the same wave. Every vibration was sensual, every movement erotic. The crowd swayed, caught up in the hypnotic sound that was Trance. With each button pressed, each CD selected, each sound-bite looped, he controlled them, carried them to the edge of climax and then pulled them back from the edge of satisfaction. Over and over they would ride the wave until the sun would begin to spread its amber fingertips across the sky. Then they would return to their lairs, exhausted to sleep away the light of day.
This was what he lived for, where he felt most alive. There were no doubts here, everything he did was right. Here he was a god. With each sound wave, he would woo the crowd, drawing them into a world of his own making. He was loved here, accepted with open arms because of the mood he created with the sound. He provided an escape, for himself and for those who moved on the dance floor. Tomorrow would come, but for now there was just the music and the movement.
With the next track cued, he looked up and their eyes met. His woman, nymph or muse for the night, for each night there was one. She would always find him with her eyes and for that night they would be lovers. The music whispering to each other what spoken words would never do, their eyes seducing each other with a promise that would never be fulfilled outside the dance floor. Though they would never touch they would be marked indelibly.
He would love her by the music he chose, for each rhythm would entice her to move and she in that movement would love him in return because he would know she moved just for him. These moments were part of why he would walk away spent, having given so much of himself in the making. These too were the moments that drew him back, intoxicating him with the fulfillment only the music could provide. He craved it, ached for its fulfillment. The music was his and he belonged to it.
He lifted one side of the headphones to his ear to cue up the next track. Tonight they were riding the same wave. Every vibration was sensual, every movement erotic. The crowd swayed, caught up in the hypnotic sound that was Trance. With each button pressed, each CD selected, each sound-bite looped, he controlled them, carried them to the edge of climax and then pulled them back from the edge of satisfaction. Over and over they would ride the wave until the sun would begin to spread its amber fingertips across the sky. Then they would return to their lairs, exhausted to sleep away the light of day.
This was what he lived for, where he felt most alive. There were no doubts here, everything he did was right. Here he was a god. With each sound wave, he would woo the crowd, drawing them into a world of his own making. He was loved here, accepted with open arms because of the mood he created with the sound. He provided an escape, for himself and for those who moved on the dance floor. Tomorrow would come, but for now there was just the music and the movement.
With the next track cued, he looked up and their eyes met. His woman, nymph or muse for the night, for each night there was one. She would always find him with her eyes and for that night they would be lovers. The music whispering to each other what spoken words would never do, their eyes seducing each other with a promise that would never be fulfilled outside the dance floor. Though they would never touch they would be marked indelibly.
He would love her by the music he chose, for each rhythm would entice her to move and she in that movement would love him in return because he would know she moved just for him. These moments were part of why he would walk away spent, having given so much of himself in the making. These too were the moments that drew him back, intoxicating him with the fulfillment only the music could provide. He craved it, ached for its fulfillment. The music was his and he belonged to it.
For the Love of a Child
Small, frail, as yet untouched
by human hands; I see you.
You move, stretch and turn
Inside me, a secret connection
forms. I know you.
You arrive not so frail
and not so small.
Purple with rage,
you make your presence known.
There is not enough time
To grasp it all;
To hold time;
Not enough time
To make you understand.
You are my heart
Outside my body.
You'll never know
How much I love you;
No actions,
No time,
Nothing; can express
All my heart holds for you.
by human hands; I see you.
You move, stretch and turn
Inside me, a secret connection
forms. I know you.
You arrive not so frail
and not so small.
Purple with rage,
you make your presence known.
There is not enough time
To grasp it all;
To hold time;
Not enough time
To make you understand.
You are my heart
Outside my body.
You'll never know
How much I love you;
No actions,
No time,
Nothing; can express
All my heart holds for you.
Solitary Titan
He stands, a solitary Titan, on the precipice that is his life prepared to fight once more to survive. Scabbard drawn he steels himself for the worst, for life has not been kind. Enemies, from without and within, have pushed him to his breaking point, questioning all that he has held as truth. Heartache and loneliness have been all too familiar companions leaving little to fill the void within him.
Beneath his titanium plating beats a heart too wounded, too haunted by ghosts both of things done to and by him. Cruel actions he would like to take back, words said in harshness he would love to call home. To live with it all rekindled is too much to bear so he buries the phantoms within himself. Packed away they can't trigger the nightmares they threaten, but in the packing, has too much of his humanity been locked away as well? Has too much of his heart been bisected that true love cannot heal it?
He lives in darkness, wearing it as both a cloak and a shield because the light is too bright. There are no shadows to hide behind in the light of day, no places in which he can become lost. In the golden glint of the sun he stands vulnerable, all of who he was, is and will be bend and mold under the rays of light. They shift and bend revealing too many unknown possibilities until he shrinks back, waiting for the light to fade when he can breathe again.
Beneath his titanium plating beats a heart too wounded, too haunted by ghosts both of things done to and by him. Cruel actions he would like to take back, words said in harshness he would love to call home. To live with it all rekindled is too much to bear so he buries the phantoms within himself. Packed away they can't trigger the nightmares they threaten, but in the packing, has too much of his humanity been locked away as well? Has too much of his heart been bisected that true love cannot heal it?
He lives in darkness, wearing it as both a cloak and a shield because the light is too bright. There are no shadows to hide behind in the light of day, no places in which he can become lost. In the golden glint of the sun he stands vulnerable, all of who he was, is and will be bend and mold under the rays of light. They shift and bend revealing too many unknown possibilities until he shrinks back, waiting for the light to fade when he can breathe again.
An Entwined Fairy Tale
Eric Prince pulled his shiny black mustang into the garage after a grueling day at the office. He slid out of the leather seat, loosening his tie as he shut the door and walked toward the mud room entrance to the house. The smell of smoke greeted him as he opened the door and fear gripped him. He dropped his coat and sprinted through the corridor that connected the garage to the rest of the house. An overwhelming heat assailed him as he entered the kitchen already thick with smoke.
He ran back to the garage for the extinguisher he’d placed near the work sink. Once there, he yanked off his dress shirt, called 911 and gave them his address while dousing a shop cloth with water. Ignoring the admonition to wait for help, he closed his phone, grabbed the extinguisher and rushed back into the house. He stopped at the end of the corridor to tie the damp cloth across his face, before he brought the extinguisher forward and began to fight the flaming dragon of the inferno that was devouring his kitchen.
Inching his way forward, he yelled his wife’s name, praying to hear her call back, but his only answer was the roar of the flames as they threatened to overtake him. He’d made it halfway through the kitchen, when the dragon sprouted a second head and blocked his exit, forcing him to fall back.
He yelled for Stephanie again as tears ran down his face and his lungs began to burn from the smoke and heat. When he again heard no answer, he abandoned his current route, to run back to the corridor and then out into the night. He gulped in the cool night air as he ran for the front porch, praying that the fire hadn’t made its way to the stairs in the foyer.
Cursing his shaking hands, Eric fumbled to open the door’s locks. He half fell into the house as the door sprang free. Seeing that the flames were beginning to lick at the foot of the stairs, he ran, hoping to beat them. He started up and fell as the stair’s runner tripped him like brambles. He caught himself and sprinted to the second floor. The smoke brought him to his knees just as he made it to their bedroom.
“Stephanie!” He called again to his sleeping wife as he crawled toward the bed. Again she didn’t answer and terror gripped him. He gulped air into his lungs then sprung to his feet, wrenching her limp body from the covers. He ran for the library on the other side of the house knowing there was a window that opened out over the roof of the portico.
He made the window panting, his lungs burning from the heat and exertion. He forced it open and pulled his wife out onto the roof. His foot slipped as he pulled her free of the windowsill and they fell, skidding toward the roof’s edge. He managed to catch the guttering to slow their fall, but it gave way, swinging them into the porch’s railing below. Eric felt his ribs crack as he hit the railing, but he managed to buffer Stephanie from the blow, and ease them both to the ground.
He looked down at his unconscious wife, her face awash in the moon’s glow. She appeared to just be sleeping, but he was terrified he’d lost her. He cradled her head with one hand and cupped her chin with the other before bringing his lips to hers, forcing air into her lungs. He felt her stir just as the fire engines pulled up, bathing them in the glow of yellow and red lights. Relief washed over him as her eyes fluttered open and she whispered his name. He pulled her close, reveling in the knowledge that they could face another day together.
He ran back to the garage for the extinguisher he’d placed near the work sink. Once there, he yanked off his dress shirt, called 911 and gave them his address while dousing a shop cloth with water. Ignoring the admonition to wait for help, he closed his phone, grabbed the extinguisher and rushed back into the house. He stopped at the end of the corridor to tie the damp cloth across his face, before he brought the extinguisher forward and began to fight the flaming dragon of the inferno that was devouring his kitchen.
Inching his way forward, he yelled his wife’s name, praying to hear her call back, but his only answer was the roar of the flames as they threatened to overtake him. He’d made it halfway through the kitchen, when the dragon sprouted a second head and blocked his exit, forcing him to fall back.
He yelled for Stephanie again as tears ran down his face and his lungs began to burn from the smoke and heat. When he again heard no answer, he abandoned his current route, to run back to the corridor and then out into the night. He gulped in the cool night air as he ran for the front porch, praying that the fire hadn’t made its way to the stairs in the foyer.
Cursing his shaking hands, Eric fumbled to open the door’s locks. He half fell into the house as the door sprang free. Seeing that the flames were beginning to lick at the foot of the stairs, he ran, hoping to beat them. He started up and fell as the stair’s runner tripped him like brambles. He caught himself and sprinted to the second floor. The smoke brought him to his knees just as he made it to their bedroom.
“Stephanie!” He called again to his sleeping wife as he crawled toward the bed. Again she didn’t answer and terror gripped him. He gulped air into his lungs then sprung to his feet, wrenching her limp body from the covers. He ran for the library on the other side of the house knowing there was a window that opened out over the roof of the portico.
He made the window panting, his lungs burning from the heat and exertion. He forced it open and pulled his wife out onto the roof. His foot slipped as he pulled her free of the windowsill and they fell, skidding toward the roof’s edge. He managed to catch the guttering to slow their fall, but it gave way, swinging them into the porch’s railing below. Eric felt his ribs crack as he hit the railing, but he managed to buffer Stephanie from the blow, and ease them both to the ground.
He looked down at his unconscious wife, her face awash in the moon’s glow. She appeared to just be sleeping, but he was terrified he’d lost her. He cradled her head with one hand and cupped her chin with the other before bringing his lips to hers, forcing air into her lungs. He felt her stir just as the fire engines pulled up, bathing them in the glow of yellow and red lights. Relief washed over him as her eyes fluttered open and she whispered his name. He pulled her close, reveling in the knowledge that they could face another day together.
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