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Ubiquitous
Ubiquitous
I’ve had this word in my head for days.
I have no clue when or how it popped into my subconscious – but it obviously felt too crowded in there and made space in the forefront of my brain.
I didn’t know there was any room left, what with all my other tenants: Tangents, imaginary problems, over thought real issues, and daydreams.
But, there it is.
Ubiquitous.
Moved in and unpacking its belongings – wondering if there’s enough space in the dumpster to dispose of the boxes and newspapers it had its fragile things wrapped in. (Probably then it felt a little guilty for considering just tossing its packing debris and not recycling.)
The wind in the desert has been ubiquitous of late.
It’s an icy wind that slaps you in the face, waters your eyes and has you hugging yourself tightly. (I like the hug part. I haven’t had a hug from another human being in a very long time.)
Every time I walk outside my office – I think of that fable about the wind and the sun. Which one could get the man to remove the jacket. The wind boasted it could – and tried first – of course, the man only drew his coat tighter – the sun shone and the man, too warm, removed his jacket.
Every time!
Then I go off on a tangent in my head about the metaphor and think of similar ones . By the time I’m back in my chair I’m focused on being kind – knowing people respond to kind. (Or maybe it would be easier to just turn the central heat up?)
The thing about this wind: the first time I came to this area to visit my parents, I encountered it and I remember thinking, there’s no way I could EVER live in this area.
I knew the wind would drive me bonkers.
You just get relief from temperatures in the 120’s – then you can’t enjoy being outside because the wind is ready to bite at you and push your patio furniture into the pool. (I don’t have a pool but I’ve seen it happen first hand and thought I’d throw that in there … much like the wind does.)
Anyway, I was NEVER going to move here … Yet here I am.
The other thing is – I might be the only one that remembers that the wind happens every single year, because the complaints about the wind are ubiquitous too.
“It’s windy outside!”
“It’s cold out there!”
“That wind has been blowing for three days straight!”
“Wish that wind would lay down!”
“It would be nice if it weren’t so windy!”
This is from people who have been in the area long enough to know that this happens every fucking year.
(I needed to say that. Sometimes I crave the feeling of a shocking word leaving my mouth.)
Anyway, Stop it.
We know.
It’s windy. It was windy last year, and the year before that.
I’m taking an educated guess that next year, ‘round this time … it’s going to be windy.
Hopefully Ubiquitous will have disposed of its packing material responsibly, or there will be packing peanuts in my imaginary pool and tumbleweed boxes smacking up against my tangents.
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.
Debauchery Soup 