Horrid Little Girl

He is somehow still alive, we were wrong in thinking he had died.  He is still sick, though, and on the verge of dying.  I haven’t had the dream in awhile, but I had it again last night.  This one was worse because I decided to add all kinds of guilt on myself.  I imagined him alone and neglected by his family.  I had him living in an apartment building, and I was unable to find his apartment because all the buildings looked alike. 

I know why I had this dream.  A friend’s father is dying from cancer right now.  He just entered the last phase of his life so it really can be any time now.  Thinking about him and being sad brings to mind my dad, so I find myself weepy at odd moments and not sure of who I am crying for.

I went to a family party last night.  Seeing those happy faces having fun always brings to mind that he is not around to enjoy it with us.

We had our problems, many problems, but he was always proud of me and always looked at me with love in his eyes.  Sometimes I don’t feel that loved by others around me.  Sometimes I just want someone to look at me and smile, and be proud of me.

My grandma is recovering from surgery and I have been too busy to visit her.  I feel very guilty about this, but I guess not guilty enough to get in the car.

My dreams aren’t usually secrets to me.  I usually know why I have them, I know why images or words or people pop in.  They don’t contain hidden messages from beyond.  They are just a small diversion.  But sometimes they linger a little too long and ruin an otherwise perfect autumn day.

There was a young girl walking behind me yesterday.  I was wearing my super high heels and stepping loudly onto the floor.  I heard her walk up to get very close behind me and change her steps so that we were stepping together.  I think she was imagining herself in high heels, tapping away on the floor.  I was tempted to turn around and catch her, but I didn’t. 

There are about 5 different ways I drive to work.  It depends on things like weather, traffic, when I leave, and mood.  Yesterday I went in for a few hours and drove the route I take the most.  I was distracted listening to the radio, and everything looked a little different because it was hours later than my usual time.  I came up to an intersection and for a few seconds I had no idea where I was.  I had the idea I should turn but it didn’t look right for some reason.  I actually slowed down, unsure of myself.  And then a second later I realized where I was and made the turn. 

My uncle has alzheimer’s, and both my grandmothers experienced varying degrees of dementia.  It’s a very real possibility that I will lose my mind some day.  It’ll be intersting to watch the progression.

I cut a little bit off here and there.  A couple strands a day.  By Thanksgiving I should have full bangs.

The older I get, the more bittersweet weddings become.  I used to cry always.  I was filled with such love, and hope watching the new couple.  More and more though, I am reminded of the ones who are gone and how much older the rest of us are becoming.

This weekend I had a family wedding.  At one point I was standing near the dance floor, holding a sleepy 4 yr old and swaying to the music.  I get great comfort from a small child feeling safe enough with me to put her head down on my shoulder and close her eyes.  Just then the bride walked by, commenting on what I was doing.  She made some joke about being jealous that I could hold a kid and dance and wear high heels all at the same time, when she was having trouble just walking in heels.   I smiled and shot some small talk bs back at her as she walked away. 

When she was leaving I caught the eye of a great aunt and smiled.  The aunts were gathered at the middle table, holding court over the guests.  She was smiling and probably thinking about how wonderful it was to see this new generation of babies, and to remember how it felt to hold all those babies that had graced her arms throughout the years.  I wonder though, if she was also thinking about her sister in the hospital, and her brother and parents gone.  Maybe she even thought about being younger and feeling sexy in high heels.  These are the things that I find myself thinking about, more and more.

We come from the exurbs all the way into the city to get to the boat.  Sometimes I feel like a dog, sticking my head out the window to see all the interesting sights.  The other day I watched a couple cross the street in front of us and continue on.  They weren’t side by side and she came up behind him and shoved him, causing him to stumble.  I smiled a little, thinking about cute young couples and the silly games they play, all in an excuse just to touch each other.  But then he turned around and grabbed her by the neck so I knew it wasn’t a game.  He grabbed her and pulled her very close to his face, and kept her there for way too long.  Sometimes if you are grabbed by the neck your head gets all floppy and you almost give yourself whiplash.  I think he had big hands, and had ahold of her skull as well as her neck.  When he pulled her close her head didn’t move.  Dozens of feet away I could feel the strength of his grab.  I imagined her breaking free and running towards me, him hot on her heels.  She would grab my door handle and try to get in to safety.  He would follow and bring his anger onto us as well.  I locked the doors, but of couse I shouldnt have worried.  The light changed then and we moved on.  Just past the intersection I turned around to see what was happening.  He had let go of her neck and they were continuing on their journey, side by side.

For maybe the first time ever, I am reading a book about me.  Not the me that I want to be, not the me that I’ve kidded myself into believing I really am, deep down inside; but the me that I actually am.  I don’t even remember the name right now.  It’s just some chick lit I picked up to gobble up on the boat this weekend about some boring married chick with no direction in her life.  Occasionally it startles me when I come across a part that seems a little too familiar and comfortable.

I want to read about the edgy, cool intellectuals I can convince myself into thinking resemble me, “if only…”  I don’t really want to read about the wallflowers swept away by life.

I was driving this morning when I glanced over at a house I was passing.  I watched an old woman walk out her door and across her driveway.  She looked frail, with her faded white hair and her faded white housedress.  I’m not sure if actually saw, or just imagined I saw,  delicate pink and blue flowers adorning her dress.  I bet if I had been closer the sunlight behind her would have made me able to see her thin legs through the thin material.  She was walking out her back door and across the drive in front of her garage.  There was a small garden patch just beyond the garage and I imagine this is where she was going.  maybe she had just woken up and was about to do her usual check of the vegetables.  Making sure they all survived the night and seeing if anything new had blossomed. 

I have created a long happy life for her.  She is content these days, with her simple routines and her small garden.  I’m not quite sure if I want to be her someday, or if I already know I never will be her, that my chaos and uncertainty will never allow for daily tending to my garden.  I think it’s both.  I do want to be her, but I think most likely, I will not.