36 and a half

today is the day that i am halfway to my next birthday and as i rode home this summer night, there was lemonade in my memory and the rustling of wind in my skirt.  i left a room of boisterous lacrosse boys wolfing down my blueberry cobbler and rode down the street to the empty house my father grew up in.

it’s been empty for two years and i walk into the back yard and remember a life once lived.  i remember crossword puzzles and baseball games and playing on the upright piano with my aunties and boppin’ around the basement to the jukebox.  grandpa’s blueberry pancakes and folgers coffee, everywhere it was the home they raised my father in and where i spent weekends as a child and sunday mornings before my grandfather died.

the roses are overgrown but a pair of shears still lies out on the table.  i clipped a few white roses, one orange, and smelled the remants of the pink and red roses before their petals dropped to the ground.  i rode down the quiet streets to my home and realized the tears in my eyes because i knew i should not have gone there.  every time i go there i am reminded of a past chapter, a book that has ended, a memory i’ll never be able to quite describe to my children.  a man they’ll never be able to meet.  do you know what it’s like to have imagined your father holding your newborn child and being so proud of you, telling you ‘you done good, kid’.  i didn’t have a drop of alcohol tonight but i sit here and hold that thought hostage in my mind.

this day was a good one, a quiet one, one with long conversation and things i’ll tell you all about some other time.  there was creativity, there was peace, there was laughter, there was something possibly indescribable.  i suppose that’s where i get to feeling sentimental sometimes, crossing paths old and new and feeling the wholeness of life upon me.

tomorrow i want to be.  i want to enjoy what i’ve made and ride in the sunshine and drink coffee along alberta and feel sun on my face.  i don’t want to remember anything but the beating of my heart and the smiles that come naturally.  i want to sleep until i wake up and read until the words fall off the page.  i want to imagine the possibilities and taking giant leaps into the abyss and allowing my heart to be wrapped up in everything imaginably good.

there is a stillness i feel and a craving for more of that feeling where i see that image…black and white photos and someone who will look back into my eyes when i capture theirs on film.  words on a page, metaphors slipped into chapters of someone’s life, songs from yesterday that have evolved into a collection of something more beautiful together than ever imagined separately.  a work in progress that sees both oceans and new possibilities.

Out of the Rolling Ocean, the Crowd. by Walt Whitman
Out of the rolling ocean, the crowd, came a drop gently to me,
Whispering, I love you, before long I die,
I have travel’d a long way, merely to look on you, to touch you,
For I could not die till I once look’d on you,
For I fear’d I might afterward lose you.

(Now we have met, we have look’d, we are safe;
Return in peace to the ocean, my love;
I too am part of that ocean, my love—we are not so much separated;
Behold the great rondure—the cohesion of all, how perfect!
But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us,
As for an hour, carrying us diverse—yet cannot carry us diverse for ever;
Be not impatient—a little space—Know you, I salute the air, the ocean and the land,
Every day, at sundown, for your dear sake, my love.)

  One thought on “36 and a half

  1. July 25, 2010 at 11:38 am

    When I read your posts, your words seem to just melt into me and I am transported some place else, somewhere back in time. Somewhere beautiful and warm. It actually feels like I am right there with you.

    On another note, I hear Portland is beautiful. For some reasons many people here in Vancouver seem to love going there!

    Kim

    Like

  2. July 25, 2010 at 11:52 am

    thank you! that is one of the best compliments i've had in a very long time.

    portland is great, if you are ever down here let me know! funny as we in pdx always sneak up to vancouver for the same reason!

    Like

  3. July 25, 2010 at 9:05 pm

    dont you wish people could go back to the days when life was good? well. the times when it was good anyways….

    i love your writing. It makes so homesick, mellow,nostalgic and HUNGRY all in one!

    Like

  4. July 25, 2010 at 9:25 pm

    ahh but my dear, life IS good. the 'good old days' is just what happens when people forget what reality was like and let the past blur. there is so much simplicity available if we choose it, you know? when i bought my house i just wanted sanctuary, so over these past 4 years that's what i've been stumbling to create 🙂

    thank you for the kind words!!!

    Like

  5. July 26, 2010 at 8:08 am

    my life is , at the moment, being lived in the past it seems. Im waiting for the present to change. so i can get out of yucky feelings. LOL

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  6. July 26, 2010 at 11:17 am

    I do love the way that you write, the clarity and the colours.
    And that last paragraph and poem – beautiful….

    Like

  7. July 26, 2010 at 6:55 pm

    lyrical – i've had those moments in my life as well so i know how you feel. i was married to a memory at one time and once i realized he was not the future i'd dreamed for myself, it became so clear that i was preventing myself from being as happy as i could be. i promise, have faith in the process and in taking risks and you will suddenly realize that you have a gorgeous future right in your hands.

    g/f – we both get this poem so very much. that feeling i get every time i'm even near ocean air, it's life-giving in a way. mecca. there is a place here that every time i cross down the path and get that first glimpse of the pacific, i'm breathless.

    Like

  8. July 26, 2010 at 10:16 pm

    happy birt! remind me to give you hday in 6 months.

    Like

  9. July 27, 2010 at 6:56 am

    ha! that's awesome.

    Like

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