Musings from the laundromat – Lightning Crashes edition
I sat outside under the night sky last night – feeling the thunder vibrate through me – smelling the rain that did not fall. Lightning flashed in random ‘peek-a-boo’ fashion, making clouds temporarily visible.
And I was contemplating.
Nic goes to England in just 3 days. For a month at least – perhaps indefinitely, if it is to be his path.
I’ve had so much on my mind lately, time slipped by on cat feet. Quickly and quietly.
Just what am I going to do alone with my thoughts? Probably have more of them.
As I stepped inside, ironically, ‘Lightning Crashes’ was being performed acoustically on the tv. Live was providing my thoughts some background music.
As if my thoughts need them.
My internal tangents have theme songs and a cast and crew … lighting and screen writers – production staff and catering. It’s quite heady really. Independent tangents of course, we have a budget you know.
But, a tangent was born. The song reminded me of someone I dated. He was in a band (shocking, I know.) He played the bass and when his band performed that particular song, he would come down from the stage and slow dance with me until he had to join in.
The drums and bass aren’t involved until the end of the 2nd verse of the song – and that is when my dance ended. Then up on stage he would go and I would find my seat.
I seem to have so many stories like that – but no book. So many ‘almosts’ but no ‘ever after’. I’m to blame for most of them, I know. I pushed people and opportunities away. So stubborn. And never willing to settle.
I’ve always had big dreams of what life and love is supposed to be. I still do.
When you’ve seen what I’ve seen and experienced what I’ve experienced, life gets bigger and so does your soul and heart and dreams.
And I still will not settle. I will wait. I will wait for the man with the broken heart and haunted past – who is meant for me.
The first I knew of true love – unconditional, pure love was when I gave birth. They say that will be the case to first time mothers (and fathers.) “The minute you lay eyes on that baby, THEN you’ll know what love is.” ‘They’ were right.
Although, if I’m being honest, when Nicholas Avery Charles was laid in my arms, and when I looked down and said my first word to him “Hi.” I didn’t feel that intense burst of love right away.
I felt like a terrible mother then – wasn’t there supposed to be internal fireworks going on? A sudden and profound new-found feeling of the maternal variety?
I was madly in love with my son when I carried him. I loved every hiccup, every kick. I spoke to him – I caressed my belly and imagined what my baby would look like, what he or she would sound like. I chose not to know the sex of my baby – I found out (obviously) when the doctor announced “It’s a son.”
I missed being pregnant for a little while after he was born. I truly missed it. Perhaps it felt safer carrying him inside of me – where he was alive and mine and protected from the world. I don’t know.
Oh, the postpartum love came. It came like a love tsunami – my heart was filled to overflowing.
I barely let him sleep in his crib at home. I would ‘accidentally’ bump into it so that he would wake up. “OH! Are you awake? Let me hold you.” And for hours I would breathe in the scent of him as he fell back asleep on my chest.
I loved my son with a heart I didn’t know I had.
I would lay down and die for my son if need be.
I would do anything to ensure he has a chance for a life filled with memories, love, hope, dreams and wonder.
And … I would send him away from me.
And I am.
And I hope that he finds those things on his journey. I’m giving him all I have to give, an opportunity. A ticket to see more than his small home town. A chance.
Perhaps years from now, he’ll sit outside as a storm brews and recall this upcoming adventure – lose himself in thought with a smile on his face. Then go back inside of his home and share a story with his family.
My usual ‘Musings from the Laundromat’ will be written from home, as they’re not open yet.
I’ve been up since just before 5 O’Clock thanks to Butters, my restless bedroom companion. 3 times last night she wanted to go outside … just to bark at something and hang out on the porch. And that was a good night.
So here I am, sleepy, but happy and trying to find the words to describe the past week. I’m not sure I can.
‘Awake’ is a good start.
Haven’t been sleeping much … but the way I see it, if I’m blessed to be very old one day, I’ll look back and smile at experiences, not the time I spent asleep.
Besides, my mind is wide awake. As is my heart is and my soul.
A series of connections and coincidences keep occurring.
It is as if all the intangibles that have made me who I am, ancestry, music, beliefs, memories, words I’ve read, places I’ve been – have found their counterpoint.
I’ve always liked to think that when I experience Déjà vu it is a sign that I am right where I am meant to be. But I have not experienced anything like this past week before.
No sense that something has happened before, only that it was meant to.