Monday, April 28, 2014

And so a piece of my past that I hadn't thought of in ages walked straight out of 1980 something and right into my kitchen

Sam had a writing prompt at school..... If he were chosen to travel on a space ship to another planet, what three things would he bring?  And he said....

1.  Suicide pills in case he gets captured by  martians
2. A weapon to defend against those same martians
3. A 10 ton bag of food.  Which I imagine he would need the help of the martians to carry. 

And I felt a little bit on blogger Mars last week - as I fielded comments, questions and hurt feelings.  As I was shunned in public places and met in private with questions of intent and meaning.   And I had only one decent weapon against it - truth.  Because I totally forgot to pack my suicide pills in case of such an event. 

So I dance around lightly this week - backwards, high heels and all - wondering what to share.   And what to NOT.  

On lighter topics I guess I could write about how I dropped a 10 lb dumbbell on my finger and how it hurts to drop a 10 lb dumbbell on any part of me.  Or how I then dropped a knife on my foot, because I'm good at dropping dangerous things.  

And I guess I could mention how, like every spring, I get the homemaker bug and try to start throwing out the old and bringing in the new.  And how a disproportionally large part of my week was spent trying to find the perfect table runner in just the right shade of spring time blue.  Throw in a few new pillows for the couch, some nice colors here and there - and it was all met with a shirtless 13 year old sitting in his underwear amidst all my new pretties - pouring chip crumbs from bag to mouth.  

All this has to be safe enough blog talk.  

But that's not what's really on my mind right now.  Separation from others due to disagreement, hurt, anger - or whatever the cause - is just a bad spot to be.  In a pickle we might say here.   And I've been in a strangely large pickle for several years running. 

My husband ran into another fireman the other day... small world... because they work for the same department, but had never met.  But turns out I went to high school with the fella.  So conversation ensued, they exchanged fireman pleasantries, and somehow it turned into....  Oh yeah says new fireman friend.... she went out with  ....

And so a piece of my past that I hadn't thought of in ages walked straight out of 1980 something and right into my kitchen.   Not a bad memory at all.  Just a surprise one.  And I had to take a quick inventory of any other loose pieces I may have left laying around the last 30 years.  

And some memories I've intentionally left behind.  Some I've just avoided or forgotten.  For the best, I like to think of it.  But maybe for the worse for a gal that's been desperately trying to remember pieces of a road that brought me -  here.  With no one around but me to confirm or suggest or assist with any pieces of memories I find, I have to trust some, try harder to remember others, and do a little research for the rest.  

 I've had lots of dreams lately where my old home and neighborhood show up.  Minus the people that belonged there.  Dreams that seem and look and feel so strangely and comfortingly familiar - but then I  can't remember why. 

I found myself with a really strong want to go home the other day.  Back to my childhood home which is less than 10 miles away from where I am now.  This apple never traveled far from her tree. 

So I sat in front of my old house for a little bit and noticed details that maybe only I would notice.  Those same house numbers have hung on that lamp post since I was a kid.  Saw a big beautiful familiar tree and noticed another one missing and replaced with new.  I looked on my knee for a scar that has mostly faded now with time - a scar from where I fell down our super steep driveway - as a less than graceful, yet well dressed teen.  And I remember mostly crying over my ripped pants because they were really great pants.  

I saw red geraniums on the front porch - just like my mom put out every summer.  I looked at my bedroom window and wondered who lives in there now.  And I wished I could go in and just look around.  But I was kinda afraid that the overwhelming sense of same and change all mixed up into a different family living there just may be too big for me.  

And I miss having a family to help me remember.   Little things, really.  But in the big scheme of things - like a life - little things that are exponentially large in making me who I am today.


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