Untitled. On Feb 11, 2022.
If I take this shot, will it have all been worth it? Will it be worth it? Will it be the end, or another beginning? I’m beginning to-. No, I’m fine. I swear I’m fine. When she finds me by my lonesome, I am asleep under a blanket, book still in hand. Or I quickly wipe away the tear; no crying, no tears shed. No time for sadness; only writing, reading, and reflecting. But sadness is-. No, I will not think it. Allow myself to feel it. For, it feels like desertion, or a type of rejection. Conjuring images of everyone who cast doubts like harpoons, hoping to real in my dreams. Have they already won? I dream of riches and treasure; are they material or spiritual? Trips to Disney or precious moments with my children? My heart yearns for the latter; though I cannot shake wishing for the former.
Poisonous. Gaseous. Cancerous. Asphyxiation. This thing affixed to my mind, clouding my judgment. Holding my soul hostage. How can it be? I am well read; which matters only that I know all of the cliches: Time waits for no one…Search for inner peace…Fear of failure… As though those words will make me feel better about walking the dog on a Saturday morning, then washing the kitchen stove, only to change my clothes and cut the grass, before rushing off to baseball, wondering if I told my son I love him enough; showed him how to catch well enough; gave him positive encouragement enough, so that he could pursue he dreams of playing in the pros. My mind adrift as to whether I missed a patch of grass for the adult-party we’ll have tomorrow; if the lawn feels like luscious carpet underneath my daughter’s feet. While my youngest son wants to speak of imagined toys and characters and so I try shutting my inner thoughts and immerse myself, with him, in the clouds floating, carelessly, above us.
And will I be enough? Strength. Resolve. Masculine. Feminine. Patient. Role model. Care giver. All of the things I had; and all of the things I had not. Like flying into space just to get closer to the sun. When a trip to the beach would do the same. But I do no like the beach – too much sun and too much water. Well, who can say if I am enough? I do not hear the compliments. They play above me like elevator music, in the background, in the distance. For the ambiance of it all. To set the scene; make it feel less lonely, more humane. Like the human connection of a gentle embrace. Or a mother wiping away a child’s tears. A sister reassuring her brother that it was all a dream; that he could sleep in her bed; but only tonight…and the next night…and the next night…and the next.
Family. Is that my shot? Family. The embrace for which I am hoping? Typing fearlessly. Vulnerabilities galore. I kid not.
