random expectations

My mom always believed in me, my dad always believed I could do better. Are those the same things? If you tilt your head just right and squint your eyes— can you see that they both wanted the best for me?

Oh, I’m not so sure about my dad. I love him, but he haunts me… in the way that classical music lingers with you long after the audience has diminished.

I try not to think about my dad… but every so often he pushes his way into my consciousness and cannot be ignored. Even if he were dead, I’m sure I’d have these same struggles— maybe more so. At least now, there is a chance to prove that life is full of second chances, hopeful smiles, children laughing in the rain, rainbows that never end, butterflies that bid your happiness, squirrels that dance with glee, clouds that never gray, dew that never drops, tears that mean joy.

It’s easier to think of my dad, not as a person who loves me, but as a person I know. That would be far more accurate. Maybe not even “know.” Let’s go for “met a few times.”

Oh, I wish my mother hadn’t believed in everyone. But just the same, her belief and her willingness to see the good in all, has made me. I can’t deny that I’ve struggled against the incongruence of her reality vs. mine. I have lived my life deliberately against both parents’ footsteps. I will not over-indulge. I will not be unaccessible.

Aren’t we all walking a tight rope?

pearlofafrika

complications.

My mother took her first breath in the same room where she drew her last one. Because of that, I developed my understanding of the circular patterns in life. Everything is a circle, even the universe. Filled with circles are we.

I don’t often think of my mother but when I do, it’s filled with an intense amount of sadness. It’s a case of Catch-22: I repress because of sadness and sadness remains because I repress.

Throughout the years, I’ll allowed bits and pieces and unresolved issues to bob to the surface… Recently, I tackled the idea of illness. Part of me was so afraid of her illness that I felt it start to take over me, in unexpected ways. Not only did I think we were doomed to the same destiny, I also felt afraid of everything.

One thing’s for sure— true love will equip you with the stare down any foe, even the most monstrous. With love holding you steady, you can defiantly watch these enemies diminish into nothingness. I am a champion of my love, because he has made me a braver woman in so many ways.

My mind falls back on my mother who was not brave. She was flawed, as we all are, but her flaws were incredibly exploited, because she had no shield of true love.

What a complicated matter.

...daily

I will tell you this. I’ve spent many days ungrateful. I’ve found myself in the most extraordinary places, although I was completely lost. In my most complicated messes, I’ve witnessed the simple beauty of life. Life comes to us fragile, trembling, full of promise. We often disregard it. Or minimize it. Or forget to realize how easily broken it can be, and how much of a joy it should be.

I often catch myself experiencing the best days of my life with lackadaisical attitude. What a horrible posture to take. Life is really here to teach us, enchant us, mature us… My ungrateful response is immature at best. I’ve decided that joy is the posture of those who have attained the secret to life. Appreciation of life is a decision, and for some of us, like me, it requires a daily commitment. Daily appreciation of the beauty that is presented to us in each moment.

Empathy

When I was a little girl… on car trips, I would imagine myself going the opposite direction. For a long time, it was very difficult to change my perspective, but over time, it became easier, and now it’s a simple trick for me. This trick, I think, helped me to see things from the other side. It developed my empathy, as odd as that seems. Seeing one road from both angles, and quite honestly, roads are more alike than they are different.