Thursday, December 02, 2010

Eraser Lips and other secrets

I haven't been hiding. I haven't been busy. Or tired.

I've been learning.

I've been shedding skin. And sunning naked in my new colors.

And I haven't been alone.

I've buried a friend. Kissed 17 years of laughter and mischief, crooked smiles, and secrets good-bye...I've been waiting for her to answer me, to visit, to rock my world...waiting for her to cross over...waiting for the teensy weensy sign that she's OK. That it really rocks over there. I've been listening to a newfound silence. And suddenly, I realize, that not all my friends will be ghosts...they won't all trip me in the kitchen, haunt me in my sleep, follow me into the corner store. Sometimes, they'll just disappear.

And that's OK.

When I go, I'm gonna snatch a knot in her ass.

Because I miss her.

I've been camping out at The Men's Center. Visiting on Sundays. Sending care packages that get rifled through, and edited, and recorded. I've collected quarters. So that on Thanksgiving we could buy a Coke for a dollar twenty five from the vending machine. And share it. We can't touch, but we can share.

I've watched my 5lb 2oz baby boy grow. Into a man. The hard way.

And I've prayed.

I've had an affair. And called it off. And started it all over again. I've confused comfort with Love. And Love with memories. And yesterday with today. I've settled, and rocked the boat, and tumped it over upside down. I've tested it, and driven it, and painted it every color, including wrong. I've feigned happiness, and forgotten that what I was faking didn't make me happy.

And I've learned that to be accepted, sometimes, you have to accept. To welcome open armed the difference. That there will never be the symbiotic sameness that I thought was karmic. That perhaps, in our difference, we can build a bridge...And we can carry each other...

And that, in that very need...

We are the same...

I've fallen. And blown out my tattle~tale arm. My drawing arm. My tell~tell arm. I can't paint colors without an extra set of hands to twirl the paper. I can't buy beer unless someone I know and someone that loves me will tote it to the car and pop it in my fridge. I can't shift gears, zip my jeans, or open the pickle jar.

I'm lucky.

I've learned that:)

12 comments:

kj said...

sing, i have to say i love you.

of all the melodic raw and lovely poetry you have written and i have read, this one carries me to your sky, i your friend, wishing i could offer more than what for whatever reason and however the universe happens to make such thing happen is a wheelbarrel of love and loyalty.

if i can help ever ever, here i am.

i am so sorry for your loss. you know it's a thin line. your heart keeps it all alive, time will show you that.


kj

singleton said...

Sweet KJ! Ahhhh, friend, isn't it funny how many roads we've traveled together in just these few short years, trading stories, and secrets, ponderings and philosophies.

And how very wonderful, as good friends are and should be, that no matter how far we wander, how long we're gone...

The door is always open:)

Thank you so very much, my friend. Your words are a gift.

Shimmerrings said...

Ain't learnin' the hardest damn thing in the world! And I don't know which is hardest, our own learning, or watching our loved ones learn. I hope you hear from your friend ;) And family... it's all we've got, in the end... and we should never leave 'em hanging... Just as my own wings were beginning to unfurl, where the sun might touch upon their tender tips, another thing happens... and I hadn't even time to fly across the room... wasted time... and now I'm forced to run at top speed, on an empty tank... better find a gas station, or recycle some corn... ho o'pono pono... look it up...

~Babs said...

Sing, I'll come to your kitchen and twirl your paper,,,,,

SLB said...

we'll unstack the stack of the doctor's office water cups & fill them with colors of blue and green, red and yellow and we'll have paper plates filled with seed beads and glitter and we'll plop them all around the poster board tiled kitchen floor. We will dip our toes right in and we will dance sister...
ILY

singleton said...

Shimmerings...

Hugs. I peeked into your world, so remiss I've been in traveling, keeping up, cranking up this rickety old machine...And so much has gone on. Hugs to you. And strength.

Babs...OMG! You made me so Smile! So weird, I thought about you the other night, when I plugged in the make believe fireplace, and it crackled, and the tiny colors in the gold frame above it, sparkled. Muah!

Sweet Sisterlove...
ILYSVVFM and wish I could be there for you, with you now. And IMY...so vvfm.
Dancing will come, pixie dust will sparkle...
and
Love will grow.
I'm so sorry you're having to go through this...

Lille Diane said...

As a songwriter/singer, I couldn't help but wish I'd wrote this. It is a song, Sing. A song from the heart, a song about love, and friendship, and loss. It's a song about feeling helpless to change something that happened you didn't want to happen or experience...yet knowing in these tender, and rock hard moments, the biggest growth begins.

As one hippie sister to another, I already feel at home here with you and like I've known you forever. Thank you for being real, for being transparent, and yet, remaining as solid as my favorite rock song~

Oceanshaman said...

Great writing here . . . pulls me in and massages my heart . . .

singleton said...

Lille....Your welcome here anytime, the porch light's always on. And in the wee hours of life, we can all sing....
scribble the tattle-tale lyrics of newly lived Blues and Hallelujahs on tattered scraps of paper...
May the circle be unbroken.

Oceans... I know, you know. And so it goes...Livin' and lovin'...

glass said...
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