So… Yesterday:
“I had a dream about this place” my grandmother said as I and the property owner helped her in through the front door, past a difficult step. “It was a nightmare.” she said.
My heart sunk into my stomach. I wonder in moments like this what it must look like from an outsider’s perspective – a little vignette into someone’s world, a scene in a play – sometimes a hopeful journey / sometimes a dark comedy.
“Such is our liiiiiives… Isn’t it gram, ha ha :/ ” I said while helping her step in through the doorway.
All day she was sketched out about having had dreamt the experience of us going to see the property – the difficult entrance, the chickens that walked by, stopping for coffee & having to go through the drive-through because the starbux was locked – all of these things struck a chord in her – she said she had dream the whole sequence of events, and the feeling made her extremely uncomfortable.
She was on her worst behavior, fussy from the get-go, and it felt like herding turtles getting she and my mom out there to check out the property, navigating emotions…
Lately I’ve been momming the fuck out of my predecessors, making sure everyone is fed so they don’t get cranky, sneaking in hidden vegetables, watering down wine, trying my best to be diplomatic in regard to histrionic outbursts. Trying to take the place of my grandfather who, that angel, somehow held it all together with recycled nails, and when he passed, just left us all not knowing what the hell to do.
I was in a funky mood today… kinda stewing on familial stuff, kinda just feeling really lost. Thinking about what it is to have a happy life. Feeling like not enough people put enough consideration into getting over their own bullshit – as parents, so as not to pass it on to their children. Maybe feeling bummed and out of place, and looking to my parental figures to blame a little.
Nonetheless bell hooks talks about that in her book “All about Love” where she posits that love is an act of doing – not just a feeling that comes over us like we are taught in the story books – “falling in love”, the act of loving is a act, potentially revolutionary act, and something we have to work at, in ourselves, in our lives, for our people, for our world – with consideration for the children – how they are taught to be in the world, as they are the ones who continue the human life saga thing.
(bell hooks died recently, kinda young at 69… Grateful her words are eternalized)
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I have been lucky, I have always been loved. I am grateful for the foundation of love that I have always had with my family.
There are times that I joke about being raised by wolves. Kinda feral. True, in some ways, kinda left to my own devices, to figure things out for myself (maybe I wouldn’t have had it any other way tho.) And that being said, my freedom and creativity have always been supported, and I can see both sides of the coin – the positive and the negative – that I was raised by wolves 🙂 – wild dramatic creatures with really big hearts, hahah and outside of judgement I have always had a foundation of love even when everything else felt like a whirlwind.
This is true, and it is also true that people need to get over their garbage, I’m so over all of that stuff weighing interactions down – convoluting what would be expressions of love.
(And yes of course I can see how I am also saying this to myself, I’m a silly human. A fool card lying on the floor. Just like the Mardi Gras evening toast at Wonderland, flappers and theremin players in the tree, fool card on the floor, so whimsical I might just puke. that feels so long ago. still all I want is home – something i’ve always been seeking, everywhere I’ve ever gone. sometimes it has been kismet community, often I’ve been lucky. but things have started looking different, at least in the world, and I can’t help but let it weigh on my shoulders some. ugh whereismylifeheadedto. I just have to make it happen, create it. I don’t know where I lost hope in reality.)
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At the end of the night gram and I talked about plans for the woman from the assisted living facility to come over and share with her some of her other options. Between bouts of hating things about the house, and anger towards the woman from the “old folks home” coming, she did say “Maybe I’d consider that horrible dirty house you like.”
I will miss the horses. Realizing I need to work it out on my own, and at the same time trust in support whatever that means.
I’m just seeking home in a world that feels like chaos. and knowing I’m probably looking in all the wrong directions, obviously not being realistic. I am still learning what it means to be human.
I have to find the beauty. I have to make it my life. I want so badly to live a life of grace and beauty.
