My family situation can only be described as ghastly. The word ghastly makes me think of old silent movies with thickly eyelined blond starlets opening their dark lips to scream - yet all you hear is that intensified pounding of the piano and the reel running in the background.
There was never a child more attached to her mother than me. She would pack me off to slumber parties, I'm sure hoping for a night away from her clingy little girl thing, but the midnight calls always arrived. "Come get me. I'm scared."
When I turned 18 I forced myself to the city and mom stood in the driveway sobbing as my ride carted me off. Strange role reversal...and from that moment on, it continued that way.
I've stopped calling her back.
Each day widens the miles between us. So many unforgiveables...so much easier to ignore and move on then patch up and deal. Perhaps I'm weak, but inside I'm just tired...it took me 12 years to realize how completely self-serving she is. Now I want to nurture and intensify the good ones in my life. I'm so fortunate, I have friends across the globe...some understand certain aspects of me, some understand all of me. I love that. Love the good human soul, want to drink it like lemonade in river city heat.
I don't much feel like writing any poems today. They're better at night anyway.
2 comments:
That last bit is a poem right there;
"I don't feel like writing any poems today,
They're better at night anyway."
I feel you on the whole detaching bit. It is hard, since my father and I are very close, to move away from him. There were many phone calls in my year away to Minnesota. I can only imagine somwhere further away.
Nice....
:-)
Post a Comment