lousy decisions

8 07 2009

i just got out of the shower…the shower i got into over an hour ago… a shower to wash away all the sin and filth that is me…

i dont know what happened… i remember getting in and the next thing i know the steaming water was pelts of ice…skin shriveled and goosebumped…soap still in my hand…shampoo untouched…awaken from a standing trance by Lilly’s inquisitive call “mamma? mamma?” as she toddled into the bathroom…her Tigger movie finished again.

i dont know where i was in that time standing in the shower… had i been momentarily whisked away in his arms and flooded with first kisses and …? was i lost in his touches…gentle but sure…safe and intimate…trusting and loving

or was i lost in impossible decision land. he accuses me of thinking too much. i am a car sunk in the mire…i attempt, but get no where with my thinking…with my mulling the situation and attempting to tread/navigate careful and thoughtfully.

it is because all the choices suck…and all my resulting decisions (or nondecisions) are lousy. anything i do (or dont do) make matters worse

oh yeah, and in my endless stupidity… i neglected to put the password on the last post…though i doubt anyone reads me anymore. i am rather pointless…ALL is protected now though…

i will be leaving soon to do the unimaginable…i am shivering…could it be cold still from the icy remnants of the shower black-out or because of the futility of it all.

i just wanted her to tell me to come home. six years and that is all i needed to hear (not counting the nights i dreamed of it as a child banished to my grandparents house for an offense i did not know)

will she even regard me today? will she even look my way? what is her is coarsing through me too…i am half her. i have the potential for all that too?

she was not always the monster you perceive her to be. i remember when i was 3 or 4 painting on a small easel next to her…her showing me how to hold the brush and admiring my “work.” they would not leave me alone with her back then…always grandpa or grandma to supervise…was i really that worrisome…that much trouble to be left alone with my own mother. i remember her long hair…always pulled back and done up neatly…i try but i can never duplicate the ease and exacting of her style. but mainly i remember not ever being allowed to be alone in a room with her…except once…she had bought me a powder blue jumper…the shirt had tiny daisies at the shoulder. i was 4 or 5 and i ran to my room and put it on instantly…my grandpa went to the kitchen to refill the lemonade and my mom seized that moment to grab the berry basket and me…lifting me and racing out the back door and through the fields and trees. we went to the back field…out of sight. secret time just her and i…in a patch of wild strawberries (very small but very sweet). i remember her smiling at me one moment. i wanted to taste the strawberries, but she warned me not to make a mess… i remember trying real hard to pick them as softly as possible…but accidently pinched one and felt the juice spread across my fingers. i dont recall if it was intentional or habit…but i raised my fingers and thumb to lick them clean…the next thing i knew my mother had me stripped out of my jumper telling me i had ruined it…she marched me to the pond and dipped the top into the water and began scrubbing so hard it stung…i just remember my hand and face being scrubbed again and again…harder and harder…until i heard my grandparent’s voices running and screaming from across the field…grandpa scooped me up…i dont know if i was crying. i had always been warned never to cry around mom. later i saw my reflection in the mirror…my face and hand had brushburns and bruises. it was my fault for not being careful enough though. sometimes you scrub and scrub and cant get the filth to go away. like my freckles…which my mom had Ally convinced were signs of secrets and lies….fair-skinned and blonde-haired Ally who would examine my face closely to see if i grew a new freckle lie.

do you remember mom? bye bye miss american pie… and starry, starry night…the mclean album you played so often…you said only an artist could understand emotion,  torture and silent beauty enough to capture it for the world to see…do you remember? painting was the only way to release the pain…you said the medicine hid your emotion and kept you from being all…do you remember mom?

Ally and Alex…had just wanted to come home mom…that’s all. now i have no home or family to go to. just Lilly and i

what should i do with Lilly? the striped pitbull nipped at me as i bent to pet him. the aunt is also childless…i know that for some pets ARE their children…i dont wish to insult her. they have been so kind to me…i am a complete stranger…a nobody. i dont wish to offend them and stomp on their generosity.

would it really be so bad to let my mom have a glimpse of her granddaughter? maybe she’d like her…maybe. Lilly only has one grandparent left on my side…

Aslan, i dont want her to become me…waiting forever on the steps for someone who will never come…waiting for someone who never wanted her to be…

i dont want Lilly hurt…no scars (external or the ones that hurt most…the ones hidden from view but run deep and spread like a malignancy…when you realize that the world isnt safe and those you like and trust will hurt you most)

that’s too hard a lesson for her…she is so little. she has had to deal with so much already

he was the better parent.


i wanted her life to be different from mine…oh God Aslan…i wanted it to be better



forgive me for today, mommy…it was not my choice



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