Softened Sandpaper

I was old and you were old and the world so different we didn’t recognize it.  I dreamed your hand felt like warm softened sand paper and my bones felt light and fragile as a bird’s.

We were smiling, with our exhausted faces.

And then I woke up in this dry desert of a state with the smell of rain and green things in my inhale. 

My body is still strong, albeit a few pounds over ideal, and I thought about that quote I always seem to think about, “What makes life so bitter sweet that it will never come again”.  I am para-phasing, it’s an Eleanor Roosevelt one.

Remember when you worried aloud, early on, that we had so little in common? I, the day dreamer, the artist, the wanderer.  You, the thinker, the problem solver, the adventurer.

And I laughed and said I gloried in it.  The gorgeous, strange kaleidoscope of you and I.  And a little skeptical, a little bemused, you have held my hand and haven’t let go any more than I ever could of yours.

Ah our manic battles, our compromises, the raging tantrums, the astounding grace of the story that is this of you and I.

Stuck

Every time I move to step forward, I remember the gum stuck to my shoe.  It's all melted and eky and full of little bitty rocks and things so I don't want to touch it.  I have looked around for a nearby stick or something like a stick to unstick me...  but no dice.

And it's not really something I can ask a passing person for assistance with...Putting my clean art brush down, again, I twirl a journal bursting with white blank pages in my hands. 

While stuck this last month (plus), for distraction from my immobility, I am watching everyone, everything, including me.  I watch it all. My inner six year old loves this game; I re-analyze prior conversations, comparing them to current actions and then making short term predictions. 

And then there is my best friend.  No matter how many times I think I understand him, I think I have figured him out - I am startled again by his seemingly unshakable and limitless capacity.   

Take this example; The ever present expanding elephant.  This thing has dominated many aspects of our lives and, in this last year, increasingly intrudes on my time and 'our' time, both of which I am always in short supply of and jealous of sharing.  I watch me slowly become resentful. I am tired of talking about it, helping it, feeding it; I am sick of watching over it.  Now at three years -for me this is three years- Yes, I still go through the motions, but I offer only short explanations and abrupt replies.... And even though I chide myself and place my tongue literally between my teeth to prevent my inner monologue from verbalizing... I am still thinking impatient thoughts.

Sigh.

But not him.  I am watching.  How he handles it! Aptly, deftly, thoughtfully and maturely  -even when exasperated!

So.... to make up for the inadequacy that is my own maturity level, I did not make healthy, low carb meals. I made him his beloved waffles on Sunday, homemade vanilla blueberry pancakes on Monday and a cheesy alfredo pasta for dinner last night (although I did add broccoli).

Because that is what relationships are all about.  Sometimes you are the rock star and sometimes you are the entourage....

In my case, sometimes is often.  But that's ok, I have a lifetime back stage pass.

Also if you happen to see a stick nearby, could you kick it over?  This paint/ writing/ drawing block has lasted long enough.

Shelf

I have a 'shelf'.

I put things on this 'shelf' whenever I am not sure
about what to do, say,
how to handle, process-
maybe 'it' is a wound, or a doubt or an event
....whatever.
I put it on the shelf.
until one day there is just too much on it and it all falls down in a mess.
Sometimes it is stuff I forgot was there,
covered in dust and old,
people around me (including me) are all
'Hey! Why are you mad/sad/ upset about abcd? That was 5 years ago"
But it was on the 'shelf' the whole time,
Just because I forgot about it but doesn't mean it stopped being on the 'shelf'

I think we all have a 'shelf'.

A couple of things fell off recently

and I looked at them

-how small they were!

and I wondered

Why did I put that on the 'shelf'?

so instead of putting them back up

I put them away,

smiled at my nearly empty 'shelf'

and went on with my day