Wednesday, March 06, 2013

Love--A Rough Draft

This love we have-
It frustrates me, it perplexes me, it leaves me wanting more.
But it's just what I need. Perfect in its balance of never and more than enough.

I've been the object of desire, of all-consuming love.
I have pictures and letters to prove it.
Those didn't do for me at all.

You don't look at my pictures, much. I don't have declarations of your undying love.
You don't always hear me.
Your work, your studies, our children consume you, but--

I don't need to be consumed, as much as it appeals to me, occasionally.
I don't want to be memorialized, or memorized, and especially not misunderstood.
It's not my place to exist in someone's dreams.

This is my place: with you, stumbling through the day-to-day,
As our kids take first steps, learn to drive, fail classes, throw up, make new friends, skin their knees, open presents, learn to navigate life's nuances..
My place is with you as I age, and you come into your own-as I did, in my thirties.
While I look at new wrinkles, you learn about exhaustion and the weary plodding through the mundane and wondrous rigors of childhood.

Who are we? We are you, me, us, them.
All of us together, each one of us apart.
Big and small, thick and thin--words, bodies, hopes, dreams, meanings.

I wander away from understanding sometimes, in favor of resentment, anger, bitter retribution--all in my mind.
But your love brings me back, sometimes chagrined and ashamed, sometimes justified and convicted of my cause.
It rarely brings me back through force, or even compulsion by you in any sense.
It--you--always bring me back.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Sweet, Sweet, Sweet

She stands, bending her knees slightly,
Bouncing lightly,
to the music
I downloaded for her benefit.

Songs that move me more than she'll ever know.
Songs of joy and love,
tunes that talk about simply joys--home, sunlight,
sleeping in the quiet of the night

I love her solemn, voluptuous earnestness,
Guiding her as she crawls and lurches
From one new experience to the next.

She plays, she learns, then she sleeps.
And I miss her until she wakes again.

Friday, November 05, 2010

What Barely Was

Empty and sad.
Mourning a loss of something
that barely was.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

i will miss (and not miss)

i will miss:

the sky and the water connecting in one fluid line as i drive over the Bob Sykes bridge.
knowing that i can't speed on base or on campus at uwf.
feeling a blast of hot, wet, sticky air when i lower my window at any time from may through late september.
feeling as though i'm a part of a community of people who can claim they're from here, and somehow have some moral superiority over every other person who's NOT a native.... because we are a rarity.
cocktails and tapas at global grill.
sushi at dharma's, atlas, and horizen's.
the trestle on 17th avenue.
bayou texar.
white sands that whistle and squeak when i walk across the dunes (that people can't drive on).
memories of buildings wiped out by hurricanes--trader john's, surf and sand cottages, just to name a few.
sunday brunch at madison's, flounder's, and end of the line.
pizza and beer at ozone's.
antique shopping at alyssa's in pace.
la hacienda after church.
driving and walking and eating and partying dowtown....Palafox, the Saenger....
my best friends.

i will not miss...... missing my baby.
sleeping alone.
wondering if my future was ever going to start.

hoping and waiting

i've been silent
because i can't rest-
between the pauses
and the fits
and starts

that make up this
period of waiting

that will start
my new life--
the one i've always known i should lead

and hope will
actually happen

because i love him
and he loves me.

Monday, December 15, 2008


you'll be here tomorrow. again.

i just saw you at thanksgiving, and you surprised me, then.
i thought i might surprise you, now.
but nature had a different plan.
it's better this way, and i'm relieved...
but also a little disappointed.

i'm ready to start things, and keep starting things

Friday, March 14, 2008

the noise in my room is of negative space:
a quiet that comes from a lack.
the lack is due
to the silence that comes
from your absence,
and my missing you.

i miss you already

your hand-on the small of my back-
leaves an imprint.
i am chained to that touch,
and cannot move past it.

you are my forever,
and i only partially know who i am

when you are not near.

Sunday, December 30, 2007

another letter

dear ----,
i appreciate the words of encouragement concerning my last "letter". it's important for me to have an audience without actually having an audience. you figure things out through your lyrics; i figure things out in e-mails that never get sent. in other words, i feel comfortable telling things to a stranger (because that's really what you are) rather than people i see on a daily basis. they tend to catalog statements and remind you of them later. and you become culpable for any instruction that might have been administered. "see! i told you that would happen...." you somehow feel obligated not to disappoint them, to somehow diminish yourself in their eyes. that's unpleasant. no one likes to be vulnerable or feel manipulated out of the choice-making process. so, i can express myself freely to you, without regret. you have no vested interest, and will therefore offer none of the platitudes and admonishments offered by moms and man-hating best friends everywhere.
it must be evident from my previous posts that the nature of things has changed for the better. my love has come partway back. i say partway, because even though he acknowledges our compatibility, and even though he told me that i make him happy, there are no guarantees that things will work out the way i want them to. let me refresh your memory on that point: i want to spend the rest of forever cooking him dinner, arguing about religion and politics, and holding hands. i've done all those things and more. and i feel content.
see, i know what i want from a relationship. this is mainly because i was so unhappy in my previous ones (particularly my marriage--you may have caught the story about it elsewhere). i don't think my ex- is evil. he's just not right for me. but my baby....oh, he's perfect.....perfect for me. i don't have to convince myself; i just know it.
so he came to see me the week before christmas. we spent a great deal of time getting the backdrops ready for the school's christmas play. he helped me, took me out to dinner, took me shopping, fulfilled my needs. HE CAME TO SEE ME. my heart ached loudly enough that he heard and responded. i don't beg, but i'm honest. i don't hold back; pain can be cathartic in the end.

i wish i had a definitive way to describe my future with this man. he knows what i want, and i think he wants it too. but he's struggling to get past some of the impediments. all i know is that when i look into his eyes, all the cheesy romance novels and love songs and chocolate-fondue poetry become real and valid for me. i see us twenty years down the road-me with my hair dyed an unnatural color and him with an extra fifteen pounds around his waist-and none of that would be true if the feelings weren't reciprocated. it's when he's there and i'm here, and his dad is chewing away on his ear about the detriments of marrying an OLDER woman with THREE children, that he loses sight of the truth.
but i don't.


I took the day off, and we went shopping in Mobile.
We had grits and eggs at the Coffee Cup first,
then headed west on the interstate.
The ride was comfortable: we talked, we laughed,
you held my hand while your other one rested on the steering wheel.

When we got to the mall, you told me to pick out whatever I wanted.
I didn't tell you that you walking with you arm around me was all I wanted,
and that i didn't need anything else.
That would have sounded trite.
Besides, the Christmas present you were getting me
was already extravagant.
So I said nothing, and just smiled.
You put your arm around me as we strolled through the crowds.
We wandered around, looking for the Apple store.
Turns out the closest one's Birmingham.

We got some coffee at Starbuck's, and wondered where to go next.
I didn't care. I was with you.
We bought some gifts for the kids at Best Buy, then got back on the road.
You got on-line and ordered my gift when we got home,
then you made me feel good all over again.
That perfect fit.

We ate out later-a tapas place downtown-and it was delicious.
It was our favorite place to go when you still lived here,
besides the Italian restaurant we went to the night you got in.
Feeling you near-your hand holding mine, your arm around my waist:
I always want to feel that security, that sensation of fullness,
that feeling of being sated.
I wasn't worried about losing you again;
doubts will creep in over time, I'm sure.
But that day, my cup was as full as it could be, without running over.