It is morning now.
The weather has been rainy but for the time being
the rain has paused
but the sky is still covered in the cloth of gray clouds.
Today is Sunday May 12, 2019. Mother’s Day:
The rain has been falling all night. I know this because I was awake and listening to the teams of your raindrop armies falling on the roof of my house and scattering like a thousand foot soldiers that run away after landing from the sky.
It is morning now, however, and light has come through the clouds but with no sunshine to greet the day.
Maybe this is right—the rain, I mean, and the slowness of the morning, the gray skies, and the quiet dreariness of a windless, rainy morning is fitting for now.
I think of things like little feetie-pajamas.
I think of things like what little kids say
when they’re still young enough to believe in wonderful things,
like the power of a special blanket
or a stuffed animal.
I think about the way a little girl laughs at silly jokes by her Dad,
like, say, “Hey Punky, do you think fish ever get thirsty?”
And then I think of a little girl’s laugh
as she responded, “Silly daddy!”
I want to find myself here, on my own steam, living a life which I created by the steam of my works.
I want to find myself on the Pacific side of our country,
alone, looking out into the vastness of a peaceful blue sea.
Behind me are the palm trees and the Malibu lives,
Santa Monica, L.A., and even the hills,
the big Hollywood sign, the canyons,
and the sunsets,
which are unlike anything I have ever seen.
The word means more than we think.
Love means we have a heart. Love means we feel.
Love is this thing we have; it lives and it breathes.
Love expands and contracts.
Love is hope in hopeless times.
Love is painful. Love hurts. Love does not operate according to logic.
Love is a night when you can’t sleep because of fear and insecurity; meanwhile, all it would take is to hear the voice of your loved one
and then next, all would rest easily.
Along the way, I have to admit, I’ve met some interesting people. None of which are who most would expect. None of them walk with signs around their neck that say, “I used to stick needles in my arms,” or, “I used to drink a few pints a day.”
Along the way, I have met people that endured the worst of things. They survived (somehow) the worst that life has to offer. They survived themselves. They survived abuse. They survived rapes and beatings and tragedies and no matter how far down they fell, somehow, they had the ability to overcome and stand back up again.
Somehow, these people found the ability to heal and recover. You would never know it by seeing them but these were the best people I had ever seen before.
You swear this is the last time you’ll ever feel this way. You try to convince yourself this is it. No more. From now on, everything is going to be different.
You promise yourself the world.
That’s right. Tomorrow is going to be a new day. And you tell yourself this like you mean it
(because you do.)
You practice saying the things you’ve been waiting to say for years. Only, this time, you say it with determination.
This time you mean it.
You say it with the punctuation, like an exclamation mark.
You look in the mirror, you give yourself that affirming nod. You look your reflection right in the eye; and you can see you mean it (this time.)
Now all you have to do is follow through.