out

i would like to move swiftly past the pain,
drama, intensity, bleak and black.
i would like to have learned the lesson,
without going through the learning.
i would like to have moved on to the next step,
without sloshing across this muddy terrain.
i want out. i want out of the tightness and pain
and anger and deep, heavy dry tears.
i want to swim through this, run by it,
move forward, take a big leap, sneak past,
without deciphering the images or words; without
even looking or listening.
this is a horrible pain, and i am still not sure
what i could have or should have done to avoid it.
i fear my train is destined for wreck after wreck.
i fear i am unable to sort out the reasons, the whys or
what fors.
all i know is this is nearly unbearable, and i can't sleep.
and that there are worse things in the world, and i
shouldn't complain so much.
if only everyone else would stop complaining so much,
if only i could catch a break, i would. catch it and hold
on to it until tomorrow morning. fly with it beyond
the mess.
please watch yourself. please be careful. notice your patterns,
your mistakes. understand why you do what you do. don't be blinded
by routine or shoulds.
as grace said her dad says: the only constant in life is change.
the only other constant is choice.

go for the best choice. please.

red.

My dream this morning:

I walked calmly uphill from countryside into a small town intersection much like Hinckley. Autumn in full swell with deep, rich colors. Jack 'o lanterns and squash and scarecrows and straw hay abound in peoples' yards and on the streets. My family moved forward ahead of me; I was comfortable taking my time on foot. As I walked on the right side of the road, a black woman with short dreads, dressed in a city style, appeared walking on the left side. She made her way uphill to a storefront, and I heard neighbors' whisperings about "Isn't that the editor of _______?" A famous print like Vogue or Elle. I was intrigued about her visit to this small place. In the windowed door of the store, I saw a bright-blond Abby, of about 4 or 5 years. As the woman approached she greeted Abby, who responded by introducing herself, then her brother Ben and sister Erin, the latter two out of my sight. The woman said she thought the name Erin sounded familiar, and Abby told her it was because she had met Erin a few years earlier.

I never stopped my slow amble. I felt happy. To my right I came upon a child of 3 or 4 standing alone at the end of the driveway at the side of a house I don't recognize. She was wearing a dress and had bright red, almost orange hair and blue eyes. It was me, and I knew myself. I smiled, walking, and then decided to stop for her. I knelt down in front of her and looked in her eyes and asked whether ours were the same color blue, to see if she noticed that we were the same person. She said Yes, Because I'm you when you were little. Want to see a photo of Mom? She ran inside without waiting for a reply.

I woke up, so impressed by the little girl who was quite confident, independent and beautiful. Also by the fact that my mother let her so near the road without supervision...I continue to feel protective of her, upset that she never saw this life coming, and I want to right things for her.

oh dear.

everyone is saying i have a problem.
a heavy problem.

wish it wasn't so.
i would like to make a life
i like.
i would like to start over.

unfortunately, you can't begin another
until you've wrapped up the previous.
gulp. wish it wasn't so.

deep breath. here goes.