Cameron and I visit Sonny. We decide to go out on the patio and Cameron escorts me to the swing. She would like to push me and you do not argue with a 20-month-old child, well, at least not this one. I close my eyes and lay back, lulled into a dreamy state by Cameron's song , her baby song. I hear the wind rustling the leaves of the lilac grove and hear the tinny tinkle of the little wind chime above the picnic table. The late afternoon light is dappled and uneven on the dry leaves. I think I can feel my mother close by. Cameron keeps singing and the wind is now shrill and I'm hoping for a sign and I don't know what that would be. I'm listening for my mother but I can't hear her. She can't get through. Or she's just not there and my brain is tired, overworked, and fragile.
She and I loved the lilacs.
I first became acquainted with that fragrant flower at my grandmother's house. Nana had lilacs on the eastern and southern borders of her home. When I was eight years old my family moved into that great white house. Ivory and purple flowers, the ancient vines of twisted branches brought spring into my life every year. The huge cottonwood above our house with its plastic shiny leaves blowing flap-a-flap-a-flap, twisting in an Iowa wind storm. Wind was my comfort while growing up and when I was younger I thought it might contain the voice of God.
But now it sounds empty and hollow and I am at a loss. I had felt safety with the wind blowing against my window and me inside tucked into a warm bed. I thought the wind was my friend and it would comfort me on nights I could not sleep. Now it confuses me and I feel it taunting me as I toss on the mattress. I wish I could leap ahead and not feel this great barren desert I am in, but that is not to happen. Today, I lose Cameron's glasses and I eat fried food and I argue with David over stupid things and I am too tired to apologize. I just want to lay down somewhere and I don't want anyone to find me or interrupt me or ask where I want to go for dinner or when is my next dentist appointment. I don't want to live a normal life right now.
I transplanted lilac bushes to my parents' yard from the last house I lived in. Lilacs are important to the Giegerich women. Every spring my mother and I would discuss the status of the lilac nation. Were they plentiful this year, abundant, long-lasting, the best blossoms ever? I would stand on the hood of my car clipping the rich blossoms from my brother's lilac bushes listening to his pit bull hissing at me. What I would attempt to keep that little parent happy. And today I have trouble breathing while shopping for orange juice and other things. My chest is tight and consticted and I feel I must will the air to move into my lungs and back out again. My reflexes have stopped working. This is crazy. I need to find something fun to do.
I first became acquainted with that fragrant flower at my grandmother's house. Nana had lilacs on the eastern and southern borders of her home. When I was eight years old my family moved into that great white house. Ivory and purple flowers, the ancient vines of twisted branches brought spring into my life every year. The huge cottonwood above our house with its plastic shiny leaves blowing flap-a-flap-a-flap, twisting in an Iowa wind storm. Wind was my comfort while growing up and when I was younger I thought it might contain the voice of God.
But now it sounds empty and hollow and I am at a loss. I had felt safety with the wind blowing against my window and me inside tucked into a warm bed. I thought the wind was my friend and it would comfort me on nights I could not sleep. Now it confuses me and I feel it taunting me as I toss on the mattress. I wish I could leap ahead and not feel this great barren desert I am in, but that is not to happen. Today, I lose Cameron's glasses and I eat fried food and I argue with David over stupid things and I am too tired to apologize. I just want to lay down somewhere and I don't want anyone to find me or interrupt me or ask where I want to go for dinner or when is my next dentist appointment. I don't want to live a normal life right now.
I transplanted lilac bushes to my parents' yard from the last house I lived in. Lilacs are important to the Giegerich women. Every spring my mother and I would discuss the status of the lilac nation. Were they plentiful this year, abundant, long-lasting, the best blossoms ever? I would stand on the hood of my car clipping the rich blossoms from my brother's lilac bushes listening to his pit bull hissing at me. What I would attempt to keep that little parent happy. And today I have trouble breathing while shopping for orange juice and other things. My chest is tight and consticted and I feel I must will the air to move into my lungs and back out again. My reflexes have stopped working. This is crazy. I need to find something fun to do.
2 comments:
Go on a junk food eating binge that is always fun for me. Then later the guilt takes away any other negative thoughts.
This post made me feel a sadness for you. Yes - some days are dark, aren't they?
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