Friday, February 5, 2010

Things to do with your eyes closed --- 1999 creative writing exercise

Another birthday headed my way. The days are crossed out on the calendar. Not for real, just mentally I cross off the days. I’ve made it through another year by daydreams, wishes and prayers.  Firty-two years this September; enough to cause a serious meltdown on a cake. All those single candles would surely converge into a puddle of wax but there hasn’t been a cake with or without candles the last few years. Childhood parties with pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey and blowing out the candles have gone the way of lying in the sun on the dock or making love on moonlight nights.

The rush to get through the day leaves little time for smelling the flowers. I daydream when in the bathroom; not a luxurious bath with bubbles galore to relax and restore... a daydream when sitting on the can; actually more of a collapse some days. A pause to evacuate body fluids gives me a chance to close my eyes and daydream sometimes without interruption for a minute or two. Usually the day pushes on, the phone rings or John calls out, “You still here Mom?”

I listen to music in the car but that’s not a safe time to close my eyes to imagine the future. I’m stuck. I’m thinking too much. I don’t want to say the same old same old that runs me through each day. I have heard the words simplify in infrequent moments of meditation when a pause to gaze out the window turns into more than a minute. What do I want to say? What do I want to wish for? Not a million dollar lottery ticket that would probably cause more problems. I’ve heard you have to change your phone number immediately after winning because once your name is released closet relatives and new found friends will plague you. No I would wish for comfortableness. Don’t think it’s a word but that would be my wish. Comfortable home, comfortable clothes, comfortable body that I would actually watch in the mirror while dressing; a comfortable kiss, at least a million to make up for lack of intimacy for all these years. Where is a comfortable relationship with comfortable love making? A comfortable relationship where neither one of the couple would have pressure to perform or put up with someone’s idea of being. A relaxed friendship, solid comradeship to support each other through roller coaster rides of life.

What else… what else is so denied, so far out of reach, closed off by my mind. I know its me. I know I could change it all not by a wish or magic but by… by what? The tools I know but don’t do are meditation, Chi Gong and massage. How did I get so far away from what I know works to sooth the soul, to boost creativity, to live the good life?

Some how I got narrowed, my beams are not as sturdy; I have more than faltered on my journey. I look at an abusive marriage and am thankful I was able to choose to get out. I look at my son’s accident but can only make the best or worst of each emotionally overwhelming day. I’m too close to that; I wonder what could have been done differently. Why on earth would anyone choose that struggle? My whole belief system crumbled with the impact of his body on that car hood. I give him my all but neglect myself. I push through an over grown field; one that held great promise. I gave up praying and turned to doing; to getting by. I play peck-a-boo with the spirituality that got left behind. Not able to turn away from this disaster; I flounder to find sure footing. There was no choice but to dive in with eyes wide open to his being born again. When executed by car, John escaped death with eyes closed and mine wide open. No movies are scary as what I went through. No wonder I’m numbered to the soul which has been stranded without sleep. The things I do with my eyes closed overwhelm my friends.


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